#so i'm going to post the next chapter of voice on thursday

[butterflydm]

wot reread: a memory of light (chapter 38-epilogue)

spoilers for a memory of light!

Well, the rest of the chapters have fewer pages in total than chapter 37 did, so this is going to be my last full reread post, though I do have a couple of follow-ups planned.

My timing ended up being pretty good, even though my original intention was just to reread books 1-3 in anticipation of the second season of the show. And now I’ve still got over a month to get good and excited about everything the show will be bringing to the table.

1. We go back to Rand, still deep in his conversation with TDO. The chapter “the Last Battle” really revolved around the battle between the forces outside Shayol Ghul, because it ended when the commander of the other army finally was killed (though there are still a ton of his forces to take care of, the head of the snake was cut off and so was the person who fancied himself Demandred’s replacement).

2. The ‘let go’ that Rand is hearing in his mind is in his father’s voice, and the meaning expands here -- let them sacrifice. it is their choice to make. And then Egwene’s voice -- am I not allowed to be a hero too?

Because this is something that Rand has been resisting over the course of the books -- basically ever since he accepted that he will be the sacrifice, he’s struggled with knowing that he’s not the only one, with knowing that other people are sometimes even sacrificing just to get him here, to this place. And, I imagine, with his tentative plans to maybe even survive this ‘sacrifice’, that’s going to make him feel even more guilty about other people giving up their lives in this fight.

3. He talks in dialogue with Egwene’s voice in his head (given that he’s existing around and between reality, it might really be Egwene’s voice too). He is not in charge of protecting her. He decided to take that charge on himself, back in EotW, but it was never his to claim. Let us die for what we believe, and do not try to steal that from us.

4. And so Rand takes himself through his list again, backwards, this time, releasing his feelings of shame for failing to save them, releasing his need to protect them. Letting go of the mountain that has been crushing him for the majority of the series.

He hadn’t realized how large it had become, how much he had let himself carry.

...

Ilyena was last. We are reborn, Rand thought, so we can do better the next time.

So do better.

5. And now Rand, as he stands surrounded by all time and nothing at the same time, comes to understand that the Darkness was never a being, never an entity of its own. It is the between of everything. It can only win if no one is willing to keep fighting against it.

6. Mat gets the news of Lan’s reported death. As he did with Egwene and with Elayne, he swallows the grief and doesn’t let it show to anyone else, instead using the news to spur the army onward to attack the now-stunned foe.

7. Rand tells TDO that he can’t win, and TDO argues that it has Rand in its grasp right now, and Rand says that that’s missing the point, because it was never just about his victory. The people he lists:

Morgase (?) - a woman, torn and beaten down, cast from her throne and made a puppet

Thom - a man who remembered stories and took fool boys under his wing

Moiraine - a woman who hunted truth before others could

Perrin (?) - a man whose family was taken from him, but who stood tall

Nynaeve - a woman who refused to believe she could not Heal those who had been harmed

Mat - a hero who insisted with every breath that he was not a hero

Egwene - a woman who would not bend her back while she was beaten and who stone with the Light for all who watched

Rand realizes -- “it was never about beating me. It was about breaking me.”

8. Okay, I have to say. I have to! But this is... this is literally also how the Seanchan work. This is their philosophy of life -- to take people and break them to the Seanchan’s purpose. As I’ve said before, there really is no way around the fact that the Seanchan are going to be the Great Evil of the Fourth Age. There are just too many Shadow-Seanchan parallels! Maybe Mat and Min can slow the train slightly but I don’t think they can actually put the breaks on it.

9. But back to now -- Rand and TDO watch the battlefield, where Mat is fighting -- Tam at his side, then Karede and his suicide-slave troops, then Loial and the Ogier. “Outnumbered three to one”. Mat is shouting in the Old Tongue: For the Light! For honor! For glory! For life itself!

I will take a moment to be glad that, despite the first half of this book trying so hard to align Mat with the slavers for whatever fucking reason, he’s not fighting for the slavers in this battle. That he actually did become the General of the Forces of the Light, not primarily the General of the Slavers. Looking back, it really does feel like the change was signaled when Mat first took off his Seanchan clothes and put back on his Two Rivers coat*. That seems to have been a visual cue about his change in characterization -- how he started pushing back more against Tuon, forcing her into more compromises, and standing more aligned with the Forces of Light rather than pandering to the slavers all the time. idk, maybe forcing Mat over to Ebou Dar at the start of the book was Sanderson’s way of trying to finally create a synthesis between the horrible Mat of CoT & KoD and the non-horrible Mat of the earlier books, and he felt like he actually had to take Seanchan!Mat to his worst conclusion before bringing him out again? It still really sucks that the Mat and Rand reunion happened during our low point of Mat’s characterization, though.

(* which appears to have been triggered by the ‘not pleasant’ conversation that Mat and Tuon had after Tuon berates him for not telling her that Egwene was briefly enslaved by the Seanchan. After that (off-screen) conversation, Mat starts being much more combative re: the Seanchan -- after that conversation is when he has his bitter/sarcastic thought that he’s not done much to convince Tuon to stop using damane and when he suggests to Min that she mislead Tuon about her viewings to try to soften her stance on Aes Sedai; so I think we can safely give Egwene credit for the turnaround in Mat’s characterization -- I wish that that conversation between Mat and Tuon hadn’t happened off-screen! like so many important emotional moments!, but it seems like perhaps that was a watershed moment for Mat)

Rand and TDO watch, and TDO taunts Rand “the son of battles. I will take him [Mat!]. I will take them all, adversary. As I took the king of nothing [this is Lan, I assume]”.

10. Mat thinks about how he knows he can win this battle, despite the horrible odds. He just needs “a favorable toss of the dice”.

And, not too far away, with the Trollocs outside his hiding place, Olver gives up on the idea of trying to get the Horn to Mat, and lifts the Horn of Valere to his lips.

11. First Mat, and then everyone else, hears Rand’s voice -- he calls out Shai’tan as wrong, telling everyone that Lan isn’t dead. And just after he says that, Mat hears the familiar golden and clear note of the Horn of Valere.

...wow, the Seanchan feel so superfluous to requirements right now. They didn’t show up until after the final combat was engaged, after Rand had his final necessary epiphany, after the Horn was blown (they have still not shown up, technically).

I’m going to take a moment to daydream about a world where Tuon’s nature as marath’damane was revealed and accepted, so she really did flee with the Seanchan (so that she can try to recover from this blow to her powerbase) and the Seanchan never returned to the Last Battle. This would be a much easier way to de-tangle Mat from the Seanchan than whatever he’s gonna need to actually do post-canon.

12. The Heroes of the Horn return and our first sight of them is Birgitte coming to save Elayne from Mellar, with a shining silver arrow. 😍

Birgitte standing over her own corpse kinda cracks me up. Good for her! It’s also probably the first time she’s felt like herself in books and books.

“That was the bloody Horn of Valere!” Mat announces to his troops. “We can still win this night!” Inside, he marvels over how the Horn was sounded without him, showing that one of the things that he’d believed that he was permanently tied to isn’t tied to him after all.

Well, if that knot can be untied, Mat, maybe another one can be as well.

13. Between losing Demandred and the appearance of the Heroes of the Horn, the Shadow are now the ones who are on the defensive, with some Trollocs breaking and trying to run away.

The mist of the Heroes forms near Mat and he feels a moment of worry, wondering if maybe someone on the side of the Shadow summoned them. Hawkwing rides up to Mat, and tells him, “Do take better care of what has been allotted you. Almost, I worried we would not be summoned for this fight.”

I know, right? The lack of urgency in the Mat-in-Ebou-Dar half of the book about actually getting him to Merrilor to blow the Horn was really frustrating to me too!

When Mat confirms that this mean they’re fighting for the Light, Hawkwing tells him, “We would never fight for the Shadow.” The rumors about the Horn are wrong -- I feel like we learned this back in TGH as well but, you know, Mat was dying at the time, so I don’t blame him for not remembering.

Yeah, here’s the line: “We have come to the Horn, but we must follow the banner. And the Dragon.” So it was Rand, Perrin, and Mat who learned that. But, like I said, I don’t blame Mat for not remembering.

14. Hawkwing and Amaresu both scold Mat for not showing Rand enough appreciation for saving his life. Honestly, so fair and legit for Mat to finally be on the other end of a scolding like that. “I have seen you murmur that you fear his madness but all the while you forget that every breath you breathe - every step you take - comes at his forbearance. Your life is a gift from the Dragon Reborn, Gambler. Twice over.”

Mat feels so scolded. As he deserves.

He’s told that they can fight here because they have Rand’s banner and because Rand is... technically sort-of kind-of leading them... from a distance.

Amazingly, Mat takes a moment out of this encounter to marvel at how pretty one of the heroes is and then Remind Himself again that he’s married. He really does have to keep Reminding Himself. One of these days, he’s not going to remember to Remind Himself until after he’s already slept with someone else. It’s been more subtle in this book than in ToM, but Mat is still constantly checking out Every Other Lady around him.

15. Olver gets dug out of his hole by Trollocs but Noal, now one of the Heroes, arrives to save him. I don’t care about Noal, and Jordan definitely didn’t do enough to build up their relationship in CoT & KoD, but I still got a little misty at the tiny orphan child feeling grateful that one of the people who ‘abandoned’ him has finally come back.

16. haha, this next chapter is called ‘wolfbrother’ so I guess that Perrin is finally gonna wake up. But first, we have Elayne!

She’s able to wriggle lose enough to make the medallion copy shift away from her skin and fall to the ground, and now she can embrace saidar again. Elayne apologizes to Birgitte but Birgitte laughs it off, “Why do you mourn, Elayne? I have it all back! My memory has returned. It is wonderful! I don’t know how you stood me these last few weeks. I moped worse than a child who’d just broken her favorite toy.” Ah, yeah, that confirms that Birgitte’s spiral into bitterness was not meant to be a reflection of Elayne but on the dark place that Birgitte was in, with her loss of memories, I think. But it’s a shame that it feels like parts of the fandom just took Birgitte’s unrelated bitterness as a reason to slam on Elayne more. My girl gets so much undeserved hate.

And Elayne and Birgitte will ride back into the battle together. Not as Aes Sedai and Warder, but as friends. 😍 😍 😍 😍 

17. Aviendha! I’ve missed you! Her timeline isn’t advancing as quickly as it has been for those further away from Shayol Ghul, so not as much as happened here in the valley. She can feel the channeling inside the Pit of Doom - “a quiet pulse”. Oh! The wolfbrother of the chapter’s title is actually Elyas, who Aviendha runs across now. The Darkhound Wild Hunt is happening, and hundreds of wolves have come to fight back against them.

Aviendha is about to go fetch channelers to help bring down the Darkhounds, when she spies Graendal a bit higher on the slope, with some Turned channelers, and Aiel guards under compulsion. Aviendha alerts her companions (Amys & Cadsuane) and then begins the fight against Graendal.

18. Elayne has a sword again. Where is she getting these swords? I’m just gonna assume it’s made out of Air or something. More useful than the sword, Elayne creates a banner with the Power, the red lion of Andor, lighting up the night.

19. [Mat] remembered, within those memories that were not his, leading forces far grander. Armies that were not fragmented, half-trained, wounded and exhausted. But Light help him, he had never been so proud.

...

This was the moment he had been seeking. It was the card upon which to bet everything he had. Ten to one odds, still, but the Sharan army, the Trollocs and the Fades had no head. No general to guide them.

...

Elayne’s death had been a lie. Her troops had been in disarray - they had lost more than a third of their soldiers - but just as they were about to be routed by the Trollocs, she rode into their midst and rallied them.

20.  Catching up with Moggy! Hi, Moghedien. I bet your Last Battle is going pretty shitty. She kicks Demandred’s abandoned corpse. Oh, his devoted Shendla just left his body there to rot? Yikes. For Moghedien, she discovers that now that so many of the Chosen have been killed off, TDO is ready to let her have a taste of that sweet sweet True Power.

She disguises herself as Demandred and heads to the Sharan forces. I have to admit, given how open Min has been about her Talents, it’s kinda astonishing that Moghedien doesn’t know about her viewings. Min will tell anyone who stands still for five seconds, plus Tuon announced her as a Doomseer and has been plumping her up for the past whatever-number of chapters.

Moghedien starts to gear up for her role as Fake Demandred...

...and then she gets a blast of cannon/dragon-fire in her face from the Band’s part of Mat’s plan.

21. Instead of the Band leaving their caves to fight; channelers are opening them up brief windows to shoot through. Aludra is placed up on a high location with a spy-glass, giving orders to the channelers for the next locations for the booms. Honestly very clever.

22. As Aviendha fights in the valley, plants grow to cover her passage.

They had come right when she had needed them to hide her approach. Happenstance? She chose to believe otherwise. She could feel [Rand], in the back of her mind. He fought, a true warrior. His battle lent her strength, and she tried to return the same.

Determination. Honor. Glory. Fight on, shade of my heart. Fight on.

😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 😍 

23. Aviendha kills a Compelled attacker, only realizing it’s Rhuarc after she has struck the fatal blow. She kills him moments before he would have killed her, and only her shoulder gets injured.

She does her best to convince herself that she only killed a shell. That Rhuarc was already dead.

There is a burst of determination from Rand (Strength, Aviendha) and her fatigue leaves her, and she refocuses on the fight.

24. Aviendha studies Graendal and decides on her approach -- she creates a spear made out of fire and light, and some other weaves in reserve -- and charges for Graendal. See, this makes a lot more sense that Elayne randomly having a sword, because this is a weapon and Aviendha knows and has trained in most of her life. I think that Sanderson Just Likes Swords tbh.

I really love the description here because of how it brings back Aviendha’s Maiden roots as she launches her attack on Graendal. The ground explodes underneath her (her legs get pretty destroyed, it sounds like), but she’s leaping up already aimed like a spear herself, and she sinks the spear into Graendal’s side just as Graendal is using the True Power to Travel... and because they’re touching, she goes along with Graendal when she Travels.

25. Mat rides with the Heroes of the Horn. He gets them to confirm that he isn’t one of them. He can see Elayne from where he is.

Mat saw Elayne’s banner glowing above them in the sky, crafted of the One Power, and caught a glimpse of someone who looked like her riding among the soldiers, hair glowing as if lit from behind her. She seemed a bloody Hero of the Horn herself.

26. And then the great battle is over, at least here on the battlefield.

He would have to thank Tuon for returning. He did not go looking for her, though. He had a feeling she would expect him to perform his princely duties, whatever they might be.

Hmm.

27. He does feel that tugging. Rand needs him. He tries to convince himself that this was his part, out here, and whatever is going on where Rand is... that’s Rand’s business. The dice are still tumbling in his head. This part here manages to capture Mat’s double-think in a way that I didn’t feel like came across in the actual chapter when we had the Rand & Mat reunion.

After trying to talk himself out of it, Mat ends up saying that he’s a fool because “I need to go to Rand.”

As a parting note, he asks Hawkwing to go have a conversation with “their Empress” (Tuon), and hmm, interesting. Okay, I need to break this down a bit.

So, one of the things that gave Tuon the big jollies back in the negotiation chapter with Rand was Mat referring to the Seanchan forces as “our forces”, which she basically interpreted as “haha you’re mine now, no take-backs”. And here, he does not call the Seanchan empress “my” Empress. He says she’s “their” Empress. The Empress of the Seanchan, who he is not currently identifying with, it would seem. So. That’s interesting.

We don’t get to see the conversation between Hawkwing and Tuon, of course, but what would Mat assume about what Hawkwing would tell Tuon? Why would Mat send Hawkwing to talk to her? The Heroes of the Horn follow Rand, pretty explicitly. They literally just recently scolded Mat for not appreciating Rand enough. They are aware of current events in the world and of the Seanchan Empire.

Which is to say... of course, Mat is assuming that Hawkwing will try to set Tuon straight on how to be an Empress without abusing millions of people under her power. Hawkwing told him that they would never fight for the Shadow. I think it’s reasonable for Mat to assume that he would disapprove of slavery. And Hawkwing’s hatred of Aes Sedai in his lifetime was canonically influenced by Ishamael, if I recall correctly, so the idea that Ishamael’s corruption is still influencing him in his Horn-form just seems like kinda silly to me. So. That’s my stance on that. Mat has clearly stated in recent chapters that he disapproves of the damane system, in particular, and that he wants to influence Tuon to soften her stance on Aes Sedai. So we know what Mat’s motivations are in sending Hawkwing off to talk to her. And it kinda fits Mat’s pattern of trying to use other people to influence Tuon to be less awful.

28. Rand has thought about Mat often, here in the battle with TDO. He thinks of him again -- Beneath them, on the battlefield, the Trollocs had fallen, beaten by a young gambler from the Two Rivers.

29. Oh, hey, Perrin just woke up. Page 853. He went to sleep on page 670. Nice long nap. Missed... a lot of stuff.

He learns that the battle at Merrilor has been won, but the battle at Thakan’dar, outside of Shayol Ghul, rages on. He gets his exhaustion washed away by one of the Aes Sedai and goes physically back into TAR (where he left Gaul to guard the cave where Rand fights).

30. In the waking world, Thom is the one guarding that cave entrance and he ponders the various ways that the ending of the world can be turned into a song, once this is all over.

31. Mat goes to Grady and tells him that he needs to be taken to Shayol Ghul. He’s brought Rand’s banner with him. Hanging out with Grady are Olver and Noal. The dice are still tumbling in Mat’s head. As far as I can tell, they haven’t stopped since Elayne asked him if he knew what he was doing.

Mat, on thinking about Noal/Jain becoming a Hero of the Horn:

Well, you wouldn’t find Mat trading places with him. Noal might enjoy it, but Mat wouldn’t dance at another man’s command. Not for immortality itself, no he wouldn’t.

Another data point that I’m placing into the pile.

Grady says that Traveling is wonky in that direction. Can’t be done.

Mat won’t accept that as an answer, and he gets Grady to take him (and Olver) as close as they can get -- a Seanchan scouting camp, a day away.

32. lol, we get a tiny glimpse into Fain the mist god-demon here. This just feels so anti-climatic, to still have Fain around at a time like this. Anyway, he’s basically a walking Shadar Logoth at this point. Fain kinda suffers from the same issues as Slayer, in that it feels like he’s a villain that the story grew past and yet he hung around anyway.

33. Gaul has been standing alone against Slayer all this time in TAR, fighting against him and protecting Rand, on his own, while Perrin was taking his restorative nap. But now Perrin is back to help. On the plus side, because of the time dilation stuff, only two hours has passed for Gaul in here.

34. Since he couldn’t take a gateway to Shayol Ghul, Mat is going by dragon to’raken. And, yes, Mat takes time out of his terror at being up so high to notice how pretty the morat’to’raken is, even as he thinks that anyone willing to do this must be “completely insane”. Olver, who is riding with them, is having a great time, though.

From up high, Mat sees a mist covering the valley below and gets a tingling that tells him... it’s about Fain and the dagger.

35. Then their to’raken gets hit by arrows, killing the rider or knocking her out. Mat undoes his straps and climbs over to take the to’raken’s reins. So he’s... he’s riding the closest thing that this world has to a dragon. Subtext, fun for the whole family.

He does his best to give them a gentle landing. It is not terribly gentle.

36. In the aftermath of the crash, Mat thinks that kidnapping Tuon (aka marrying her) is the worst decision that he’s ever made. Hmm. And this is after she ‘returned’ to the battlefield per their plan.

“That,” [Mat] finally groaned, “is the worst bloody idea I’ve ever had.” He hesitated. “Maybe the second worst.” He had decided to kidnap Tuon, after all.

And he doesn’t undercut that thought with any kind of caveat. He just lets it stand as he moves on to the next thing. Another interesting data point.

37. Mat literally panics when he realizes that Rand’s banner has gone missing during their dragon to’raken flight. Why does it seem like Sanderson is so much better at writing Cauthor-related scenes when Mat and Rand are separated from each other?

Olver points out that the swirling clouds above them are forming Rand’s sign, and then he blows the Horn again, for good measure.

38. Rand breaks out of his frozen battle with TDO and re-enters his own body. “From his watching of the Pattern, he knew that although only minutes had passed here since he’d entered, in the valley outside this cavern, days had passed, and farther out into the world, it had been much longer.”

He points Callandor at Moridin, and Moridin promptly throws a knife at Alanna.

Broke back to consciousness by Nynaeve’s herbs, Alanna pulls herself together long enough to release the bond she forced on Rand before she dies.

...I kinda feel the need to point out that Moiraine has done nothing but be a battery for Rand since she entered the cave with him.

I also feel bad for Alanna, who really disappeared from the story once Min was bonded to Rand and could take over as Cadsuane’s Rand mood-ring, and now is only here so that she can die. I have extremely large beef against Alanna for forcibly bonding Rand but it feels like the story really should have used that beat even more than it did, rather than it disappearing after WH.

39. Perrin kills Slayer. Finally. And then he pulls back out of TAR and is “on the rocks in the valley of Thakan’dar”, near where the Aiel are gathered.

40. Mat leaves Olver with the Heroes and meets up with Perrin at the mouth of the cave. So, yes, Mat and Perrin get another reunion. Why does Perrin! Get all the reunions! This is what I was talking about when I said how annoyed I was that Mat thinking about Rand tugging on him wouldn’t end up with any good payoff. All we get is yet another Mat and Perrin reunion.

That Rand is literally inside that cave and yet the three ta’veren do not reunite here is honestly somewhat infuriating for me. Genuinely those two things: the Emond’s Five reunite and the ta’veren three reunite should have been at the TOP of Sanderson’s priority list! There is a lot that I have enjoyed about AMoL but there are just way too many important emotional moments that were either skipped or didn’t happen at all but should have happened.

And, fuck, letting Mat and Rand have a scene that doesn’t take place during Mat’s weird Ebou Dar adventure. That would have been nice! Once Mat decides that he’s not going to be a lapdog for the Seanchan/Tuon anymore, his storyline and his PoV get so much better and so much more enjoyable and I am just... eternal bitterness that our only Mat & Rand reunion was plopped into our most lapdoggy-Mat era.

Mat came here specifically to protect Rand and then he never sees him! That is just fucking awful. They deserved a better reunion. What was the point of having the Heroes scold Mat if we didn’t actually get to see Mat and Rand interact again after it? This is kinda a place where the epilogue is mostly at fault -- Mat just strolling off to plan a fireworks show for Tuon post-Last Battle conflicts pretty hard with him spending time with his dying best friend, tonally-speaking -- but that really just makes it all the more frustrating that the only Cauthor reunion took place when Mat was in his worst Seanchan-era.

41. Aviendha attacks Graendal with an exploding gateway; and Mat kills Fain/Mordeth/etc.

And Perrin almost takes off to go searching for Faile but manages to resist the urge: If Rand died, then he would lose Faile. And everything else.

Yes. I have tried to yell this at the fictional characters so many times: if the world dies, then so does your sweetheart! It’s nice that Perrin finally listened.

42. And for his final trick, Moridin grabs Callandor, and Moiraine and Nynaeve spring their trap, using the flaw in Callandor to take control of the ‘circle’ that Moridin has accidentally formed with them. With Moridin having pulled the True Power, Rand is now able to enter the link, and Moiraine and Nynaeve can feed him all three sets of Power: saidar, saidin, and the True Power. Light explodes from him, and from Shayol Ghul, as Rand uses the True Power to protect himself as he reaches through the Bore and grabs onto the Dark One.

43. We get a quick beat of people reacting to the light:

Elayne is on the battlefield of Merrilor, as they search for the living among the dead. She feels the “swelling of power in Rand” and her attention focuses on him.

Thom shields his eyes as the light bursts from the entrance to the Pit of Doom.

Min appears to have managed to get away from the Seanchan for now, changing linens for the wounded, perhaps also on the Field of Merrilor.

Aviendha is drawn back from the darkness of near-death by the light and the warmth of Rand inside her, and realizes that her explosion twisted the compulsion weave so that Graendal compelled herself to worship Aviendha. Awkward!

Logain sees the light and knows that it’s what was meant by the message that Egwene sent, and he breaks the seals on the Dark One’s prison.

44. In TAR, Perrin runs across Lanfear. Together, they walk into Shayol Ghul, and we learn that she apparently compelled Perrin a little while ago? He’s able to pull out of it by reminding himself of his duty and of Faile, and he snaps her neck, killing her.

*squints at the scene*

Yeah, I mean. That’s certainly still what looks like happened? Sorry, Sanderson, I’m not seeing your hints here about Lanfear tricking Perrin and surviving.

45. Rand holds the Dark One in his hand. Or the representation of his hand. And, once again, when Rand tells TDO how pitiful he is, all I see are echoes of the Seanchan:

You would have enslaved me as you would have enslaved the others. You cannot give oblivion. Rest is not yours. Only torment.

Rand can feel himself dying, his life blood slipping away. Realizing that the world that he’d seen without the Dark One would have been the truth, he knows that he cannot kill it. So he thrusts TDO back into his prison, braids saidar and saidin together to reforge a new shield onto the Bore.

With this new form of the Power, Rand pulled together the rent that had been made here long ago by foolish men.

He understood, finally, that the Dark One was not the enemy.

It never had been.

(because it only reflected the evil that people were already capable of)

46. The black hole inside the cave expands, as Moiraine and Nynaeve run for the safety of the cave entrance.

47. And now we are at the epilogue.

Much like I did with The Last Battle chapter, I’ll take the epilogue in sections by character. Rand & co will go last, this time.

Perrin

The spirits of the dead wolves fade back into the dream. Perrin voluntarily worries about Rand? Wow, that feels kinda out of character for Perrin, who has always been way better at pushing away thoughts of Rand than Mat has been, but I guess let’s go with it. It seems to exist to tell us that Perrin no longer sees color swirls and no longer feels any tugging towards anything. “Those seemed like very bad signs.”

“Have you sent for the three?”

What a weird way to ask “do Rand’s girlfriends know that he’s dying?”

I’m going to take a minute and count up the PoV & page counts everyone gets in the epilogue.

Rand: 3 PoVs (4 pages total)

Mat: 2 PoVs (1 1/5 pages)

Perrin: 3 PoVs (6 1/5 pages)

Loial: 1 PoV (3 pages)

Moghedien: 1 PoV (1 page)

Nynaeve: 1 PoV (2 pages)

Birgitte: 1 PoV (1 page)

Tam: 1 PoV (1 page)

Min: 1 PoV (1/2 page)

Cadsuane: 1 PoV (1 page)

That’s a lot of Perrin, comparatively-speaking.

Anyway, Perrin finds Faile, happy ending, etc.

...oh, I just looked it up and Sanderson answered some questions about the epilogue (tor[dot]com/2013/01/23/brandon-sandersons-wheel-of-time-answers-from-torchat/)! He added Perrin’s and Loial’s scene(s). Ha! I knew that Loial was a Sanderson addition because he uses “Matrim” instead of Mat (that is, imo, by far the easiest ‘tell’ of a Sanderson scene -- someone using ‘Matrim’ when they normally wouldn’t). And the Perrin scenes make sense too because it really builds off of and finishes the narrative thread that was at play earlier in the book for Perrin, which was presumably all written by Sanderson.

Mat

Mat strolls away from the aftermath of having killed Padan Fain, calling the dagger “a gamble I don’t want to touch”. The dice stop rolling in Mat’s head after he decides not to pick up the dagger. Hmm. Mat avoiding becoming the new Fain for the Fourth Age?

After that, we skip to his scene with Tuon. And there are only those two scenes with Mat in the epilogue -- killing Fain and finding out that he’s been baby-trapped into the Seanchan Empire. Though Perrin confirms in his own PoV scenes that he no longer gets the swirls or the tugging, we don’t get the same kind of confirmation in Mat’s (very short) scenes.

I will say that there is more subtlety in Mat’s ending here than I had remembered -- I was extremely unhappy about his ending but this marriage is pretty troubled already in the text, and so it’s not really the book that tries to pretend this is a happy “babies ever after” ending for Mat; I feel like that’s maybe more of a vibe that I got from fans at the time, rather than from the text. There are a lot of “male power fantasy” fans who just really like that Mat ends up married to an Empress and commanding vast armies, I think, at least from what I’ve seen around the internet (and especially back when the series was originally published).

And Mat specifically forces a grin at the news that Fortuona is pregnant, so he’s not genuinely happy about it (and we got things in recent chapters like Mat thinking that kidnapping Tuon was the worst idea he’d ever had).

But, honestly, I do still hate that it happens. I hate it up one side and down the other. It sucks as an ending for Mat so much. Miserable marriage, awful wife, horrible shackles tying him to a terrible fascist empire built on slavery.

That being said... just Tuon’s rule is incredibly fragile, this marriage is also incredibly fragile (which is probably why Jordan slapped a baby in there to begin with -- otherwise, given his general misery level in many of the Seanchan-related scenes, it’s difficult to see how Mat could bring himself to stick with Tuon for long enough to do whatever plot-related things Jordan was imagining would have happened in the outriggers -- the baby is a trap for Mat, not from Tuon but from Jordan).

There are still so many things about the Seanchan that could end up being deal-breakers for Mat if he finds out about them!

(ex. Bodewhin Cauthon is never mentioned in the books after Knife of Dreams, so it is entirely possible that she is among the new damane who were taken by the Seanchan in recent days, and Mat might end up seeing his sister with a collar around her neck post-canon. How would he react to that? And to Tuon’s unwillingness to let her go?)

In addition to Mat potentially seeing people he knows and cares about in collars, we also have the possibility of him learning just how brutal Tuon’s attack against the White Tower was (there isn’t any indication that he knows about the attack at all yet); or Talmanes telling him about Verin’s letter and Mat realizing how damaging his fear of Aes Sedai has been for the world; or further in the future there’s Mat’s potential reaction to the lethal political wrangling that Imperial heirs are meant to get up to (he was disturbed enough that Galgan liking him only means that subpar assassins will be sent against him -- when he realizes that Tuon might well encourage their own kids to kill each other to win her favor, it’s very hard to see him brushing that off). Plus he’s regained his sense of disgust over the damane system. So there are a lot of powderkegs waiting to be blown sky-high for Mat, post-canon.

idk, Mat’s storyline is maybe the one where I most have to untangle whether I dislike it more because I feel like it was executed poorly or if I dislike it because it sets up a situation that will never get resolution. And how connected are those things?

A big frustration that I’ve had with how Jordan and then Sanderson handled Mat’s storyline over the course of the last few books of the series was how many shortcuts were taken with his character and how artificial forcing him into the Seanchans’ arms has felt to me.

a. Mat getting trapped in Ebou Dar and then all the characters involved taking a vow of silence when it came to telling Rand about it. Mat getting trapped in Ebou Dar is plot nonsense: relatively forgivable. But having multiple characters being given the opportunity to change that situation and just... not bothering to do it is... that’s a characterization issue. It severely impacted my feelings about Nynaeve for Jordan to turn her into the kind of person who just doesn’t bother to tell Rand that his best friend was left behind in that kind of perilous situation. Plot manipulations... that’s just how the plot works. But over and over, characters got broken or bent for the purpose of jamming Mat into the Seanchan storyline.

b. Setalle Anan is a minor character, so I get why people don’t care about her, but she’s a character who pretty much completely reverses her characterization between WH & CoT (in WH, she is anti-slavery and finds Mat charming and trustworthy; in CoT & KoD, she protects and waits on Tuon while treating Mat like the dangerous one, including betraying Mat’s secrets to Tuon -- and her betrayals are never acknowledged by the text in any way; she just keeps on being treated as if she’s a friendly supporting character) and, from what I could see, it’s just so obviously done in order to protect Tuon from ever having even a sliver of character growth rather than it making sense for Setalle Anan’s character.

c. We keep tiptoeing up to the brink of Actually Having A Plot Happen with the Seanchan and then backing away at the last minute without really having a good reason to do it. Incredibly frustrating. This was one of my main annoyances with CoT & KoD. And in AMoL, both Rand and Egwene inexplicably back down when they have Tuon on the ropes and off-balance.

d. Mat’s teleportation to Ebou Dar in-between Towers of Midnight and A Memory of Light. I’ve talked about this one a lot but yeah. It’s just... really bad? I do suspect that Sanderson couldn’t figure out any way to actually make it believable that Mat would go to the Seanchan and that’s why he had it all happen off-the-page. But the careless damage that it does to Mat’s characterization is just horrific. Mat gets ripped out of the action of the first third of the book, and doesn’t get to the Last Battle itself until the book is more than half over. Once Mat is actually engaging in the Last Battle, his characterization steadies a lot but especially those first four chapters with Mat, it feels like we’re only working with half of his characterization and the other half has vanished somewhere in-between ToM & AMoL.

(and if Mat hadn’t been cut-and-pasted from the Tower of Ghenjei over to Ebou Dar, then we would have had a full reunion at Merrilor. So I’m annoyed/bitter about that too)

I could keep going but... let’s keep it at four issues for right now so that we’re not here all day, lol.

All of those issues are problems that I had with the execution of the storyline.

I am not inherently opposed to depressing endings for characters that I love but... it has to be done well. It has to make sense. And Mat’s ending just... required cutting away too many parts of him (and other characters) for it to make sense to me.

But though it is not always handled well (to put it mildly), Mat’s storyline with Tuon (and Tylin before her) is an example of the ‘typical gender roles are swapped’ done in a way that is more down to the very core of his storyline than a lot of other storylines, which are more on the surface.

He’s much less politically powerful than his spouse and needs to use guile, intrigue, and manipulation to get his way and try to persuade her to a gentler and kinder path than her warlike nature naturally aligns towards.

He undergoes something of a gender-swapped version of “The Taming of the Shrew” storyline, in which a fiercely independent person gets coerced/’tamed’ into being a properly submissive spouse (or, depending on your interpretation, into pretending to be one) -- many of the tricks that Tuon and Tylin use are similar to what Petruchio does to Katherine in the play. Mat gets publicly humiliated and starved by Tylin into submitting to her (which is what Petruchio does to Katherine during/after their wedding), and isolated away from his past connections during his time with Tuon, where he constantly has to act to try to figure out how to appease her without provoking her temper (Petruchio compares taming Katherine to falcon-taming, but Tuon would probably compare it to horse-training or damane-breaking), and Petruchio changes her name from ‘Katherine’ to ‘Kate’, which fits pretty well with Tuon’s insistence on never once calling Mat ‘Mat’.

Plus Mat getting his name changed to indicate that he now ‘belongs’ to Tuon’s people fits into this general category --  and historically, in the culture that Jordan belonged to, that’s normally a role given to women, to be given a new name that shows that they are now of their husband’s people and not their father’s; it’s usually their last name but, in the not too-distant past (and maybe currently in some places as well, idk), at least in the USA, women were often referred to as Mrs. “husband’s first name” “husband’s last name” with none of their own name making it into the address.

But a lot of the issues that I have with how this was written is that it felt like Mat was behaving like his hand was forced even when it wasn’t. Which is definitely a writing issue -- it’s a similar issue to the one that I have with the Rand & Min romance, for example, where Min desperately chases after something even though she doesn’t really want it at the start. Prophecy gets used as a way to skip actually writing important character or relationship beats, instead of prophecy being one of many tools in the writer’s kit.

So, yeah, it really is the execution of the storyline that is the biggest problem for me with Mat & Tuon, and the way it feels like he is pulled away from his other attachments whether or not that makes any narrative or character sense.

I really hope that the show does better with them, and with Mat in his endgame (should we get there, etc.).

I will say that I do think that Sanderson handled the romance better than Jordan did; the main problem was that it was already fundamentally broken by how the relationship was written in CoT & KoD, imo (the KoD collaring chapter in particular made me despise them as a pairing and my feelings never recovered from that moment). But in Sanderson’s books, we actually see the effects of Tuon compromising with Mat during various points of the Last Battle (though we see don’t actually see their private discussions and/or arguments that lead to those compromises), and there’s always a throughline showing how miserable the Seanchan lifestyle is for Mat, and those are two things that were majorly missing from CoT & KoD for me, but that make sense as the only way to make the romance even half-believable for Mat’s pre-established characterization from WH and earlier.

The three big issues that I have with Sanderson’s Mat are: the terrible first chapter of TGS (with the gross sexism); the terrible first chapter of AMoL (now featuring inexplicable teleportation); and the deep deep disservice done to Mat and Rand’s friendship (Rand got a personal goodbye with EVERYONE important to him EXCEPT Mat! And Mat got a personal reunion with everyone important to him, except Rand! All they got was the negotiation scene that was ultimately all about Fortuona and the Seanchan treaty, with Mat and Rand’s friendship being the set dressing around the scene).

But the relationship with Tuon honestly... makes a lot more sense in this book than it did in CoT & KoD (once we work past the brain-breaking logistics of the first chapter or so). There are TONS of hints that Mat has uncomfortable vibes going on underneath his casual exterior, plus Tuon actually does make some attempts at compromising with him, and if the well hadn’t been poisoned by how much I despised CoT/KoD-era Mat & Tuon then... I might have had a chance at enjoying AMoL-era Mat & Tuon for the toxic trainwreck that it is.

But, like all the characters & relationships in AMoL, we skip some pretty big moments in the Mat & Tuon relationship -- we see the effects of them compromising but we never actually see them coming to that compromise in private, which I feel like we needed after how unyielding and frankly how annoying Jordan made Tuon about everything.

We do end up with a Mat & a ‘Fortuona’ who remain at cross-purposes -- Mat continues to think of and refer to her as ‘Tuon’ while Fortuona has kinda reversed from thinking of him as a ‘buffoon’ to instead believing that he has the same kind of practical motivations behind his choices that she does, which is also not accurate. But Sanderson did add in some actual give-and-take to their relationship, which Jordan never seemed willing to do, so the AMoL-era Mat & Tuon is a lot more genuinely engaging for me, even if I do still think that they are one of the most obviously doomed fictional marriages that I have ever seen.

Final Mat-related question for the moment: the Seanchan Empire is based on authoritarian governments throughout history, so does how the Seanchan Empire operates mimic the behavior of a cult?

The popular model for cults is the BITE model, which was developed by a man who was deprogrammed from the Moon cult in 1976 (Steve Hassan). It’s an acronym:

Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotion control. BITE.

Do the Seanchan seek to control people’s behavior? (yes) Do they seek to control the flow of information that the people under them learn? (yes) Do they seek to have their members reject critical thought and only apply to the group-think? (yes)  Do they manipulate the emotions of their followers, usually instilling fear or paranoia about outsiders? (yes)

We know from earlier books that the Seanchan culture =/= the Seanchan Empire. There are constant civil wars and uprisings in their native land. This is explicitly why they are such good soldiers, because they are always fighting each other. Yet they present themselves as a monolith when they come to the Westlands, bragging about how they’re here to bring ‘order’ to a lawless continent. What they say about themselves does not match the truth of what else we know about them.

How does the Seanchan Empire exercise its control over its people? Everything I included here is something I think we’ve see the Empire do, but I did bold ones that are particularly blatant in the text.

Behavior control: Control types of clothing and hairstyles; permission required for major decisions; rewards and punishments used to modify behaviors both positive and negative; discourage individualism; encourage group-think; impose rigid rules and regulations; punish disobedience by beating, torture, burning, cutting, rape, or tattooing/branding; threaten harm to family and friends; encourage and engage in corporal punishment; instill dependency and obedience; kidnapping; beating; torture; murder

Information control: Distort information to make it more acceptable; systematically lie to the cult members; minimize or discourage access to non-cult sources of information; ensure that information is not freely accessible; control information at different levels and missions within group; allow only leadership to decide who needs to know what and when; encourage spying on other members; impose a buddy system to monitor and control member; report deviant thoughts, feelings, and actions to leadership; ensure that individual behavior is monitored by group; extensive use of cult-generated propaganda

Thought control: require members to internalize the group’s doctrine as truth; adopting the group’s ‘map of reality’ as reality; instill black and white thinking; organize people into us vs them; change person’s name and identity; use of loaded language and cliches which constrict knowledge; encourage only ‘good and proper’ thoughts; thought-stopping techniques to shut down reality testing: denial, rationalization, justification, wishful thinking; rejection of rational analysis, critical thinking, constructive criticism; forbid critical questions about leader, doctrine, or policy; labeling alternative belief systems as illegitimate, evil, or not useful

Emotion control: teach emotion-stopping techniques to block feelings of homesickness, anger, doubt; make the person feel that problems are always their own fault, never the leader’s or the group’s fault; promote feelings of guilt or unworthiness; instill fear, such as fear of: thinking independently, the outside world, leaving or being shunned by the group; ritualistic and sometimes public confessions of sins; phobia indoctrination: inculcating irrational fears about leaving the group or questioning the leader’s authority, no happiness or fulfillment possible outside of group; shunning of those who leave; being told there is never a legitimate reason to leave.

“Destructive mind control can be determined when the overall effect of these four components promotes dependency and obedience to some leader or cause; it is not necessary for every single item on the list to be present.“ (in this case, that would be to the Empress, ~may she live forever~)

(all taken from freedomofmind(dot)com -- not linking because sometimes outside links make tumblr act weird about posts)

On the page, we witness the slow process of Leilwin née Egeanin pulling away and deprogramming from the Seanchan Empire, and then in this book, it feels like Mat has begun that process as well. And it feels like they started the same way -- because of a massive overreach by Tuon, the leader of the cult/Empire. Leilwin née Egeanin gets humiliated and punished by Tuon for no reason; just because Tuon felt like being a brat that day, and that moment of humiliation -- the re-naming and the forcing of the jewelry on her in a way that treated her like a slave -- was really what made Leilwin née Egeanin start to pull away from the other Seanchan and go into the path that eventually led to her being, however briefly, Egwene’s Warder.

For Mat, it really seems like whatever happened in that ‘not pleasant’ discussion that he and Tuon had after she berated him for, essentially, prioritizing Egwene’s privacy over Tuon’s desire to get information from him... that discussion (that we didn’t get to see) really seemed to lead to the more combative Mat who refused to back down and roll over for her. Mat still feels a level of protectiveness and affection for Tuon through the rest of the book but he stops letting her push him around and he starts acting like he cares about doing something about the slavery system in the Seanchan Empire again, which was a part of him that we lost at the start of CoT and I have hated so much that we lost in his character. But it slowly grows back over the course of the second half of AMoL.

Again, my big regret here is that the Mat & Rand reunion happened before Mat started his spine regrowth program. Even though Mat does start to push back on Tuon more here, he still never finished several of his character arcs that were set up over the course of the entire series: namely his own mistrust of Aes Sedai and his fear of Rand as a channeler. Both of those fears were things that he was actively working in the text and that he abruptly backtracked on when Tuon was introduced into his life (because being chill with channelers and being chill with people who enslave channelers is contradictory and so Jordan decided... to go with being chill with slavers). So those are two flapping loose ends for his character at the end of this series that never got to fully be addressed because the ‘romance’ was prioritized over Mat’s characterization.

Loial

Loial is looking for people to help him with accounts for his book and “Perrin ignored me and Mat cannot be found”.

Mat just completely disappearing from the Westlands side of things to go set up a fireworks show for Tuon (and asking Aludra to be the one to set it up, which just seems kinda mean, considering that the Seanchan pretty much completely eliminated the Illuminators) is just... frustrating. Apparently Mat visited the battlefield here “smiling and healthy” but then vanished. So, in theory, there’s an empty place here where Mat might have visited Rand and talked to Elayne & co one last time, since Rand is in the main healing tent on this battlefield.

Loial also notes how odd it is that Elayne and Min don’t seem to feel any urge to go in to hold Rand’s hand while he’s dying (Aviendha is getting her legs looked at). I know, Loial! They’re the worst fake-grievers who ever lived, I swear. If the whole point is to trick people into thinking Rand is dead, then it might be a good idea to... actually try to trick people?

Moghedien

In which Tuon’s people are already breaking the terms of the treaty by snatching up channelers from the battlefield at Merrilor. No hundred years of peace, Rand. I’m sorry.

Rand (& all those who say ‘goodbye’ to him, or who don’t)

Rand leaves the mountain, slipping on his own blood and carrying a body. Shayol Ghul is trying to close before he can leave and he only barely makes it out in time before the cave snaps shut behind him.

Moiraine tells Rand that he did well, and Nynaeve tries desperately to keep him alive, but eventually, and without ever waking back up, ‘Rand’ dies.

Elayne, Aviendha, and Min do the absolute worst job of playing grieving widows ever. Like, if Rand had actually died, I could understand this better. Because they might really be in shock. But they know he’s alive! And their whole job is to convince people that they absolutely believe that he’s dead! Just... pinch your arm until you start crying! This is literally the most suspicious way that they could have gone about things -- Nynaeve is already extremely suspicious of how they’re acting. Seriously, she’s gonna wiggle the truth out of them pretty much five seconds post-epilogue.

Birgitte comes to say goodbye to Elayne because she’s about to be reborn... and to mention that she’s tossed away the Horn of Valere. Sure hope that Elayne doesn’t regret that in ten years when they’re at war with the Seanchan!

Tam hopes that now his son can get some rest. My hope is that Rand will, you know, go and talk to his dad after he’s had a chance to recover from the stress and trauma of the Last Battle. Also, Tam... you’re gonna have grandkids. No thoughts on that, I see. Still no thoughts on that.

The funeral scene frustrates me to pieces.

Honestly, the most frustrating thing about the funeral scene is how easy it would have been to casually mention that Mat and Perrin were there? Like, that’s ONE SENTENCE. Just... the erasure of those years of friendship, because heterosexual marriage, in Jordan’s fictional world, meant that close male-male friendships just stopped existing. It’s depressing. That CADSUANE is considered to have more right to be at Rand’s funeral than his childhood friends who were also vital parts of the Last Battle. It’s insulting. And apparently Tam organized it? But he couldn’t be bothered to invite his kid’s best friends. Definitely a place where Sanderson should have done some editing of the original epilogue. One sentence is all that was needed.

*sigh*

I do think that Sanderson did try to set up why Mat wouldn’t have gone -- we have seen Mat, in several of his recent PoV scenes, swallowing his grief over losing people he loves and not letting it appear to affect him openly, even as it rocked him deeply, so Rand’s death would be another of those gut-punches that he would do his best to pretend didn’t happen. But, fuck... it just sucks that the friendship between Mat and Rand is such a sublimated thing in this last book, when Rand and Mat both got to much more openly deal with pretty much every other important relationship that they had (though I will note that Rand and Sulin never got a reunion either! Rude!).

Perrin didn’t get anything like that kind of subtextual explanation, but Perrin actually did visit Rand’s healing tent while he was dying, so at least he got that much. *shrugs*

Min thinking here about how the assembled people expect a ‘show’ of grief -- yes, they have all found it exceedingly odd that none of you appear to be grieving the man you said that you loved.

Rand wakes up in his new body, washed clean of the wounds that he’d taken over the course of the series. No more missing hand; no more agonizing pain in his side. 

I have to admit “she left me some money” feels like a pretty anti-climatic way for Alivia to “help Rand die”? She wasn’t really involved in his “death” at all -- it was really Moiraine and Nynaeve who were the ones who ‘helped’ him die. I mean, any one of Min, Elayne, or Aviendha could have left him some money, since they all know he’s alive. I wonder if Jordan was originally thinking that Alivia would be the one joining Rand & Nynaeve for the cave journey, and it was Sanderson who decided that Moiraine would be more appropriate? Nothing distinctively Moiraine happens in that cave, not the way that Nynaeve was needed to be there to heal Alanna without using the Power. Like, this poor woman was harassed by Min for a handful of books because of that prophecy and all she did was leave Rand some money! Min better find her and apologize to her! (I already know that she won’t)

Haha, so confession: my brain edited out that new!Rand had lost saidin. My brain was just like “nope, of course he can still channel”. Personally, I’m not a huge fan of Rand not being a channeler at the end of the story, so that part I’m not thrilled about. He does have his newfound ability to use the threads of reality to basically channel anyway, though. Or at least I assume that’s what the pipe scene is about.

And then his thought, too, about ‘which’ of the women will follow him - yeah, you’re right that thinking that means you’ve gotten a swollen head! They all have responsibilities! Though since Rand leaves so abruptly here, there’s a lot that he doesn’t know, and the two things that most affect this specific question are: the extent of Aviendha’s injuries and the extent of Min’s involvement with the Seanchan. Literally zero of them is in a position to go chasing after Rand, even if they wanted to! Rand is the one who has no obligations and can easily visit them if he wants (well, maybe not ‘easily’ if Min does end up in the Empire).

But I can still remember, wow, what a relief it was that he was alive at the end, and free and unbound. The rest can be... adjusted by post-canon theories.

In terms of ‘things that aren’t covered but that we can probably assume’:

It does look like Elayne ended up with all three of the medallion copies -- the one Mellar used on her, the one that was on Birgitte’s body, and the third was with Lan and she probably reclaimed it (there’s nothing to indicate that Mat spoke with Lan and got it back), so the slaver empress never gets that medallion that Mat wanted to give her back in ToM. Tragic.

Despite Elayne and Tam speaking frequently over the course of AMoL, they somehow never speak about the whole grandkids issue. I feel like we can assume that this happens at some point, post-epilogue? Elayne and Aviendha both seem like they would go back to Caemlyn to rebuild. And Tam doesn’t really have a reason to go back to the Two Rivers at this point, so I can see him ending in Caemlyn too because: grandkids.

Technically, Min has slipped the Seanchan net at this point and could just not go back if she wants, so she can either go back to the Seanchan or she could go to Caemlyn with Elayne & Aviendha, but if she does stay away from the Seanchan, Tuon is going to try to get her back. Unless she was super-turned off by Min actually standing up to her in front of all the Blood and hastily makes Selucia her Truthspeaker again. That’s another possibility.

Ah, since we were told earlier that Melaine was about ready to give birth and Birgitte tells Elayne that she’s about to be reborn: Melaine might be her mom. I feel like Birgitte being reborn as Aiel sounds kinda fun.

I feel like Rand would not actually enjoy traveling all on his own after a while, given what we know about him, so he would probably end up visiting Caemlyn. And given how suspicious Nynaeve already is in the epilogue, I’m going to guess that she knows the truth by the time Rand goes to Caemlyn.

If Mat decides to leave the Seanchan behind at any point, he will probably also go to Caemlyn, and Mat and Rand can finally have a good reunion.

All in all, there are things about the ending that don’t thrill me but there are also things I really like. And having an ending at all helps in terms of sparking the imagination for fanfiction or meta or... an Amazon Prime television series. I don’t think we would have ever gotten the series if the books had stayed unfinished.

The epilogue checklist (and my theories about how it affected AMoL)

So, while reading AMoL, it felt like Sanderson took a couple of shortcuts in order to bruteforce the characters into reaching their epilogue endpoints, because there simply wasn’t enough time for it to happen naturally. This is my list of things that I believe got shortchanged due to “writing to the epilogue”:

Fortuona is pregnant in the epilogue: at the start of AMoL, Mat gets teleported to Ebou Dar without any kind of narrative or logistical explanation (contradicting his PoV chapter in the ending of ToM, where he was planning to return to Caemlyn, which would have thrust him directly into the main stories at play in the prologue & early chapters). I feel like part of it is that Sanderson really wanted to get that bun in the oven as quickly as possible.

“they expected something from the three of them; a show of some kind” : There’s just a wide acknowledgement in the epilogue that literally everyone knows that Rand has three girlfriends, so everyone just already knows in AMoL that Rand is in a relationship with three women now. No need for anyone to have emotional reactions to it, please! (not even Rand’s literal dad!) This one also ends up being weird because it seems to change from moment-to-moment whether or not the whole army knows that Rand has three girlfriends (if everyone knows already, why is Rand playing spy games with Elayne?).

Min is Fortuona’s pregnancy test: Min instantly respects ~Fortuona~ as an empress even while thinking that she doesn’t normally respect nobility. Bizarre, considering Min’s own history with the Seanchan from Falme.

Mat kills Fain: we got two super-quick glimpses of Fain earlier in the book to set up this moment but Mat had so much other stuff to do that Sanderson couldn’t really do more than say: yeah, Fain exists and he’s bad, lol.

Minor elements I think were affect by the epilogue:

Rand is still pondering over the idea of choosing between Elayne, Aviendha, or Min: we get Rand’s going “am I allowed to love three women? idk sounds fake” when he and Aviendha sleep together in chapter 4, which just was kinda silly. I think the epilogue is also the genesis of the vibe where Rand appears to consider “having sex with Min for months” to not be any kind of “choice” when it comes to the three women, but having a romantic interlude with Aviendha or Elayne would signal a choice -- because the epilogue acts like the situation between Rand and each of the three women is roughly equal, so “months of sex with Min” appears to hold the same emotional weight to Rand as “pining from afar with two nights of intense passion” does when he thinks of either Elayne or Aviendha.

Mat has no thoughts about any of the Westlands characters: I think that this is more of a subconscious effect -- as he focused more on the final book, I think Sanderson focused on the relationships highlighted in the all-important epilogue... and the only person that Mat cares about in the epilogue is himself *cough* I mean, Fortuona, of course, lol. In both TGS and in ToM, Mat’s deep affection for various Westlands characters was constantly on display, as shown in his own ‘loves lying to himself’ way. This gets curtailed in AMoL, especially in the early Ebou Dar chapters.

I think I’m going to let myself might let myself marinate over the various books before I post a final list of my personal ranking of the books.

One thing that I’ve really noticed is that, more than any other character, the quality of Mat’s storyline has a huge impact on my overall enjoyment of the book. In CoT & KoD, Elayne and Egwene (both of whom I love), got pretty good stories. But Mat’s story was so bad that it made it difficult for me to enjoy the good parts. But maybe some time just letting myself think about the series as a whole will balance out my thoughts. Does that make Mat my favorite character or just my most impactful character? idk. I feel like Elayne or Rand would more consistently hit the top of my favorites.

Overall top five characters throughout the entire series:

1. Elayne

2. Rand

3. Egwene

4. Mat (might be higher if not for CoT & KoD)

5. Nynaeve (might be higher if she didn’t basically disappear after she married Lan)

Then, moving on to the next favs, I think there’s more uncertainty there for me:

6. Verin, probably, but it could be Moiraine. Let’s say they tie.

7. Aviendha and Siuan can both go here. Both generally very good and interesting characters.

8. You know, I had a real turnaround with Gawyn in this reread of the books; I’m gonna put him here. He can share this spot with Leilwin née Egeanin.

9. Loial, probably. Needed more PoV; that would have been nice. I’ll put Faile here with him.

10.  For more minor characters, I gotta give a shout-out to Narishma (favorite Asha’man), Sulin, Pevara during her Black Ajah Hunter phase, Olver is really good in his sections here in AMoL, Asmodean for being my favorite fail-Forsaken and Moghedien for sticking it out until the very end, Elaida honestly very fun PoV as far as villains go, Teslyn and Joline for being troopers and enduring Mat Cauthon at his very worst, my girl Berelain who always deserved better, the ‘Finn in general always lots of fun, Aludra and Juilin who always kept their integrity intact.

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #mat cauthon #rand al'thor #elayne trakand #so it really feels like the 'main characters' of the actual last battle #were rand mat egwene and elayne #with everyone else being more of a secondary character #who helped the one of those main four storylines #posting this today because ao3 is being slightly iffy right now #so i'm going to post the next chapter of voice on thursday #and just give ao3 some time to work out whatever the connection issues are

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - chapter twelve (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter twelve: home is always home

chapter summary: you were planning to tell them how you felt on saturday, but when things go sideways at the studio you find yourself running home as fast as you can.

warnings: this is the chapter i've been warning about for a long, long time. please read responsibly if you're easily triggered by any of the following topics - guy who can't take no for an answer, aggressive/sexist language, physical and verbal assault, panic/ptsd, physical injury/blood, hospitals, police interaction (mentioned), nightmares/night terrors, self harm (sort of?)

notes: please note, if you're reading this on or around 12.3.23 when i'm posting, i've put up three chapters at once. make sure you don't skip chapter ten and eleven! additional notes under the cut~!

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 11.6k

previous chapter | next chapter | AO3

for my readers who aren't that familiar with a/b/o, i'm introducing something in this chapter that you may not have seen before. i wanted to add some context! if you're new to a/b/o, there is something that alphas have often called "alpha tone", "alpha voice", or just "tone". alphas in many depictions have the ability to lower their voice in a particular way that is seen as a strict command to an omega, and it triggers/activates their submission. this is something that can be used negatively or positively, but in this scene will be negative. there's also something called headspace/subspace that you will see referenced, and an omega can be put into headspace/subspace via alpha tone. it is a bit of a dissociative state where the omega can only really hear and understand commands. this can be used negatively or positively as well, but again, definitely not good in this scene. i hope that helps.... and happy/responsible reading!!

You really, really wish today was Saturday and not Thursday. Thursday just means you still have to get through Friday and then all of Saturday morning before your scheduled dinner with Yunho and Mingi and all the things you want to say are practically eating you up inside. But there’s a right way and a wrong way to tell someone you’ve been an idiot and you’re in love with them, and blurting it out in the middle of dance practice isn’t really going to help make this easier. 

God, you hope they still want you. 

On the plus side, this week has been insane. With the full crew back things are moving at a million miles per hour, and you’ve been in more meetings about what’s coming up next in the past week than the entire time you’ve worked for BB Trippin and KQ.

Your schedule for the next six months is frankly intense. Between preparing for year-end stages and working on the choreography for the newly debuting girl group, you’re juggling conversations about New World’s next comeback and the next round of touring. With the money coming in now there’s an opportunity to take more dancers, and that just means more late nights and early mornings getting everything right. 

It’s after your third concept planning meeting of the week that you find two minutes to talk to Wooyoung, his bag already slung over his shoulder as he refills his water bottle. 

“So, you’re going?” You ask him vaguely, trying not to tip off anyone else in the vicinity that he’s got a date. 

“Yeah,” He nods, eyes flicking over your shoulder to see if San and Seonghwa are nearby, “I think I’m going to throw up,” 

“No, you’re not,” You assure him. 

“I might,” He whines, running a hand through his mop of long black hair, “I never know what to say to him,” 

“Woo,” 

“I know what to say to everyone, y/n,” He lowers his voice, panic evident in his eyes, “but every time Sangie smiles I go fucking blank,” 

“Sangie?” Your eyebrow quirks, “Is that what we’re calling him now,” 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung blushes. 

“Wow,” You prod him softly, “you’re down so bad, it’s been like three days,” 

“It’s so bad,” He grimaces, “this is embarrassing,” 

“Now you see how I feel,” You smirk, “it’s kind of fun being on this end of things,” 

“Please,” He rolls his eyes, “are you telling me you’re not panicking?” 

“Oh, no,” You laugh, “I definitely am. It’s just nice to know I’m not alone here,” 

“I was never this mean to you,”

You hold his gaze, just blinking, there’s nothing to say to that he doesn’t already know. 

“Okay, fine,” He sighs, “but still, feeling like this,” 

“Feeling like what?” Seonghwa’s voice shocks you both out of your quiet conversation and you both jump back from each other. 

“Jesus,” You breathe, “you scared me,” 

Seonghwa smiles, “Sorry,” he shrugs, “everything okay?” 

“Perfect,” Wooyoung takes a step back and shakes his head, “totally good,” 

Seonghwa’s brows come together in the middle, “You seem like something’s wrong, can I help?” 

Wooyoung almost blanches, and you know he’s dreading telling San and Seonghwa about Yeosang, so you jump in to help. “Woo was just helping me figure out Saturday,” You cover and draw Seonghwa’s attention back to you, “you know, figuring out what to say to them,”

“Oh,” Seonghwa nods, but you can see that he doesn’t really buy it, “right,” 

“Anyways,” Wooyoung starts walking backwards towards the exterior door, “I have to go, but you know, y/n, call me if you need to talk more later,” 

“I will,” You nod, “I definitely will.” 

Wooyoung knows that what you mean is that you want detailed date updates, and he almost looks mortified at the idea. He disappears fast, leaving you and Seonghwa relatively alone in the hallway. 

“What is up with him this week?” Seonghwa asks, confusion on his face. 

“He has a date,” You tell him quietly, “he’s kind of freaking out about it.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa glances towards the door where Wooyoung just disappeared, “that’s not that weird for him,” 

“It is if he’s this interested after only a few days,” You say, “but don’t tease him. He’s kind of worked up about the whole thing,” 

“Who’s he seeing?” Seonghwa asks. 

“He should tell you that,” You beg off the gossip immediately, “just do me a favor and give him a little space to talk to you and San about it,” 

“Okay,” He draws out the word, not sure exactly where you’re going. 

“He’s nervous about upsetting the delicate balance,” You gesture towards him, referring to the carefully constructed relationship that is Wooyoung, San, and Seonghwa. 

“He’s seeing another alpha?” Seonghwa jumps to that conclusion with ease, and you can see how he would get there. 

You’re shaking your head before you can stop yourself, “It’s not that,” 

That does surprise him, and Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit, “Oh,” 

“Right,” You nod, leading him to the conclusion as close as you can without spelling it out, “my point is, he’s nervous and he’s got a pretty serious crush, and he hasn’t said so but I think he’s scared you and San won’t approve.” 

“I would never,” He stumbles over his words, “out of anyone, we would never judge him, he has to know that,” 

“Hey,” You reach for Seonghwa, stepping a little closer so your voices stay low in the entryway as you brush your hand down his forearm, “he knows, he’s just panicking a little.” 

“Should I talk to him?” Seonghwa asks, his eyes earnest. 

“Not yet,” You shake your head, “he’ll figure it out, just don’t push him right now. I’ve never seen him this anxious,” 

“I won’t,” He promises, “thank you for telling me,” 

“Mhm,” 

Seonghwa chews over your words a second and then decides to let it drop. With a sigh he refocuses on work, “Are you staying late?” 

“Yeah,” You shrug, “I have some things to catch up on. You?” 

“I need to track down San,” He says, “but then after that I’m probably heading out a little early,” 

“Nice,” You nod, “still shaking off the jetlag?” 

He nods, “Unfortunately,” 

Down the hall you watch a few of the dancers gathering up their belongings, and then the door to the back office opens to reveal Yunho and Mingi, sitting close together and studying a computer screen as Jaemin leaves for the day. 

“Well,” Your feet are already moving, “then I’ll see you later,” 

“Sounds good,” He says, and then he gives you a knowing look, seeing exactly where you’re headed. 

Before you know it, you’re moving through the people in the hall and trying desperately to come up with a reason for crashing their tete-a-tete. 

“Hey,” You knock softly on the open door, “am I interrupting?” 

“No, no,” Yunho smiles when he sees you and your stomach bubbles. 

“We’re just watching back practice,” Mingi leans back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes. 

“Oh, nice,” You say, and your empty words do little to fill the empty space. 

“Do you… need something?” Yunho tries. 

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” You scramble internally for something to say, “I’m staying late, but I’m kind of starving, I just didn’t know if you still had stuff stashed?” 

“Sure,” He gestures towards the cabinets on the side wall, “whatever you want, help yourself,” 

“Great,” You dash towards the cabinets, and you can’t even imagine eating right now with how fluttery your insides have been, but you snag a couple of protein bars anyways. 

The silence is brutal. Not like before, not like the tense and uncomfortable angry silences of the past, but it’s still sitting there between you. Part of you wants to shut the door right now and just get it all out there, but again, you know you shouldn’t. 

Mingi’s warm, chocolatey scent is richer in here, evident after a hard practice of working up a sweat and being given a chance to permeate with the door closed. You feel your body naturally relaxing at it, so comforting and familiar, and then you get the first pang of Yunho’s warm, summer rain. 

You can hardly believe how you convinced yourself that this wasn’t scent sympathy when right here and now it’s so obvious they belong to you. You wonder if they feel it too. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi’s voice snaps you out of your sudden daydream staring at the cabinet full of snacks. 

“Yeah, yes,” You shut them and step back, “I’m fine, just a little tired.” 

“Not sleeping well?” Yunho says, concern all over his features. 

“I’m fine,” You wave him off, “just a busy week,” 

“You don’t have to stay late,” Mingi offers, “I’m sure whatever you’re working on will still be fine tomorrow,” 

“I know,” You nod, “but if I don’t get it out of my system I’ll just be thinking about it all night, you know how it is,” 

Mingi nods, “Still, take it easy later,” 

“I will,” You promise, and you start to turn towards the door when the words just bubble up out of your throat, “you’re both still free Saturday, right?” 

“Yeah,” Mingi answers for them both, “are you?” 

“Definitely,” You nod, “I just wanted to make sure, I’m looking forward to it,” 

“We could do tomorrow instead,” Yunho offers, “after practice?” 

“As long as you don’t have other plans,” Mingi cuts in, “for a Friday night,” 

“Tomorrow works,” You jump at the chance, “I’d actually love that, I just didn’t want to crowd you when you’re adjusting to the timezone again,” 

“It’s fine,” Mingi brushes that thought off, “I’d rather see you,” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, “it’ll be good to catch up,” 

You smile, “I want to hear all about the trip,” 

“The trip,” Mingi says, just repeating your words like he’s weighing them out on his own tongue. 

Something about his voice sends a sharp zing up the back of your spine. 

Your body feels a little soft, relaxing bit by bit. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over you, “Are you sure you need to stay late?” 

Something your primal little brain cannot handle right now is the thought of your alphas being protective, not when you’re standing in this room encased by their scents that feel a little too right. Your stomach tightens and you pray that you’re not blushing pink at the flickering thought in your mind of them taking you home. 

You need to get out of this room before they realize it. 

“I’m good,” You tell him, stepping backwards towards the door, “but thank you, and dinner tomorrow is perfect,” 

Mingi says something, you think he’s agreeing, but you’re giving another excuse over your shoulder about how you need to get back to it so you can make it out of this room. 

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you leave the office and make it down the hall, heading for the studio room you’ve booked for the afternoon. You nearly run into Dahan and Minseok as you cut around the corner, but you apologize quickly and barely give them a second glance as you hide yourself away in one of the dance studios alone. 

With the door firmly shut you lean back against the closed door and take a deep breath. These feelings are going to work you into a frenzy if you don’t get them under control. Scent sympathy is rare, an almost perfect match between an alpha and omega that makes every part of a relationship heightened, especially once that initial sympathetic bond is fulfilled with a claim. While they were gone you came to that conclusion slowly, the steady ache in your chest so clearly informed by the lack of them, but now that they’re back and here the realization of it collides into you full-force. 

You love them, that’s true. But what’s more is how much you need them, and how much you hope they need you. You can’t let them realize it before you have the chance to say everything you need to say, and if you had stayed in that room a few minutes more they might have felt themselves. With the dinner moved to Friday you just have one more night to get through. One more night, and one more day of work. And then the chips will fall where they may. 

With a deep breath you let the hammering of your heart slow and then you focus back on the work ahead. The more you pour yourself into work the faster these 24 hours will go, so you put your head down and get to it. 

You work for a long time, probably too long, until your muscles are positively aching and any thoughts of Yunho and Mingi are drowned out by lyrics to the chorus of this song that just keeps looping in your mind as you try different patterns of footwork. Here in this bubble you don’t know who’s still at work, who’s left for the day, what time it is, or if the sun has set yet. You just know your own body and every which way that it moves to this one singular song. 

Your hair is hot around your face, sweat clinging to your brow as you finish out the latter half of the choreography that you’re confident with. It’s fast, and includes so much up and down floor work you’re pretty sure you’d be passing out if you weren’t hydrating properly. Focused on your reflection in the mirror you gather your hair up and away and into a knot and then move to find your towel and water bottle. 

The door to the studio opens behind you, and you glance back without really seeing who’s popping in, “Hey,” 

For a split second it occurs to you that it might be Yunho or Mingi and your stomach flips as you start to turn. 

“Hey, y/n,” Minseok’s voice is a bit of a surprise. 

“Oh, hey,” 

He looks like he’s just stopping by to grab something from the far desk in the corner. You’re honestly surprised that he’s still here, he had looked on his way out earlier when you bumped into him in the hall.  

“Are you heading out for the night?” You take a drink of water and catch your breath, leaning against the mirrored wall behind you. 

“Soon,” He nods, running a hand through his dark hair and snagging a sweatshirt hanging over the back of the office chair. 

“Well,” You smile, “have a good night,” 

“You too,” He says as he walks past you, but then his steps slow and you hear him sigh before he turns on his heel, “listen, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” 

“I hope you don’t think this is weird,” He takes a few more steps back towards you, “but I’ve actually been meaning to ask you something for a while now,” 

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise, and suddenly you can see everything in his expression. You know this look. You know the way men get when they finally rip off the bandage and change the equilibrium of a room, the moment they decide they can’t see you as just a friend. What absolutely terrible timing he has.

“I was thinking,” He says, a little pause before the rest and you hope you’re keeping your face nice and neutral, “do you think I could take you out some time?” 

“Out?” The word leaves you. 

He smiles, “Yeah, out, like a date.” 

“I appreciate that,” You shake your head a little, trying to smile and keep things light, “but I don’t think so,” 

His lip quirks and his nose scrunches and you suppose that if you were interested you might find this part of him charming, but you’re not, so it isn’t. “Are you seeing someone?” He asks. 

“No,” You tell him honestly, “not right now.”

“So, I can’t get you to give me one chance?” He takes a step forwards, gesturing between you both and keeping his gaze hopeful. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” You shake your head, “we work together.” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” He assures you, brushing past the boundary you tried to set with casual indifference, “don’t worry about that.” 

“Still,” You shake your head, “but thank you for asking.” 

You’re not at all thankful for him asking, but he’s nice enough, and it feels like the polite way to keep the status quo. 

“That’s a shame,” He admits, his smile dropping almost entirely, “are you sure I can’t convince you to give me just one chance? I really do like you, y/n,” 

“I’m sure,” That should be firm enough. 

“I thought we were getting along well,” He cuts off the end of your words, “becoming friends.” 

“I thought so too,” You straighten up off the wall behind you, tossing your towel over your shoulder and setting up to walk right out of the studio room if that’s what it would take to end this interaction, “I thought we were friends,” 

You can’t help but emphasize the word friends, and you watch the moment his expression drops more, annoyance flicking through his jaw. 

“I didn’t think you had such a problem seeing people you worked with,” He says pointedly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“It’s just that,” He shrugs, nodding towards you, “I didn’t think it bothered you. Considering.”

“Listen,” You lock eyes with him, “let it go. I’m trying to be nice about this, but I can be clearer. I am not interested in going out with you.” 

“You don’t have to be rude,” 

“Goodnight, Minseok,” You’re not staying for this. 

“I’m a good guy,” He says as you start towards the door, “don’t, come on just stay a second,” 

You keep walking. 

“y/n,” He says, his voice startlingly close behind you, “stay.” 

It’s like your legs stop working, an echoing strike of nerves down your spine and you stumble slightly as his hand closes around your wrist. 

“Let go of me.” You start to turn towards him, pulling your arm back as you do, but he speaks again. 

“Stop.” His voice is so low suddenly, situated smack in the center of his chest, a tenor you’ve never heard from him before. Your legs stop working all together, suddenly feeling like lead.

“Take your hands off me.” You blink hard, your head feeling a little full suddenly. 

“I just don’t understand,” He bites, “we’ve been flirting for weeks.” 

You can’t find the words to tell him that you being nice isn't flirting, but you’re stunned into silence. You can barely even think of a time when you had a sustained conversation with him where someone else wasn’t present. How could interactions that felt so routine to you feel so significant for him? 

“And you’re just… not interested?” He scoffs, “You’re what, twenty-six? Twenty-seven? You’re going to start running out of good offers.” 

So many things about Seo Minseok fall into place with just those words. The way that just a few weeks ago he barely looked at you, barely spoke to you. Always spending his attention on the alphas in the room around you, but never you. How when that tide shifted you thought, maybe naively, that he was just shy. But he’s not shy, not in the least. He’s just another alpha in a long line of alphas who look down their noses at omegas until there’s something they want from them. 

“That’s really none of your concern,” You shake your head, “now get the fuck off me.” 

“Be quiet.” His jaw sets hard. 

So does yours. 

A thousand thoughts run through your brain like a wildfire eating up a hillside of dry bark but nothing can make it past your lips. The tone of his voice has you rooted to the spot, his instructions not suggestions but strict commands. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard an alpha use tone, but it’s certainly the first time it’s been directed at you. You’ve heard stories, the way the primal omega brain surfaces even when you don’t want it to. You thought it was a bit of an overstatement, but now on the receiving end you can’t control your response to him and fear floods you. 

“You talk a lot for an unmated omega,” He looks disappointed. 

Something shrinks inside you. 

His fingers tighten, his body suddenly closer, “But we can fix that.” 

In a breath his hands push you backwards, your back suddenly cold against the mirrored wall of the practice room. Later, much later, you’ll discover that the reason your memory of this moment is patchy is a combination of your omega’s response to alpha tone and full dissociation. You’ll remember little pieces, quick sensations here and there. The same song still looping through the stereo, the sound of his deep inhale with his face pressed against your throat, the sharp pin pricks of his teeth as he seeks out the soft juncture of your neck and shoulder. The way your mind in one heaving breath both screams in rebellion and folds open in acceptance when he successfully locates your gland. 

You suddenly can’t hear right, can’t think right. All you know is his teeth. The hot feeling of breath. He smells like burnt, bitter oranges. He’s talking again, saying something that your conscious mind can’t register, but your omega does, and you stretch your neck long to give him the access he needs. 

And then you’re under. 

You’re dropping before you consciously register your brain entering a new, hazy middle space. It feels like being at the bottom of a deep pool, the sudden, immersive quiet. You understand that someone is talking to you, or around you, but all you can hear is the echoing tenor of an alpha, the words unclear, all cocooned in the water around you. 

There’s a bang somewhere but it feels far away, and you feel pin pricks against your throat. 

Minseok’s overwhelming acrid scent and heavy pressure against you is gone, the sudden loss of his weight leaving you off balance. You think you’re falling, or maybe you’ve already fallen. The world feels tilted, something hard and cold under your back. You smell something sharp and tangy, and there’s something loud in the room but you can’t understand it. Everything is white, bright and intrusive. 

Mingi’s face swims into your vision, and you feel his hands on your cheeks. It takes you a minute to understand anything, but he looks upset, stricken and his cheeks are tinged pink with panicked anger. You want to reach up, soothe his brow and see what’s wrong, but you can’t lift your hand. Don’t move an inch. 

“Jesus,” Mingi glances to his side, “he put her in subspace,” 

Someone responds, but it’s muffled to your ears. 

Mingi’s face darkens entirely, his hands leave you, “I’ll fucking kill him,” 

He’s gone. There’s a scuffle to your side, but you can’t turn your head, you want to, you just can’t. Tears bubble in your eyes, emotion pulsing through you and your breath is tight and thready in your throat. A sharp, whining sob bubbles from your lips. 

Warm rain swims through you, and Yunho’s there, sliding right into the spot Mingi left. His eyes dart over your face and then he looks to his side, his voice firm, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,” 

There’s a long beat, noises to your side again but you can’t understand it. Your stomach flips nervously, the place you’re stuck in your head throbbing a sharp spike through your brain. 

Yunho’s warm, brown eyes settle back on yours, his face calm and easy, “Can you hear me, y/n?” 

You can, but you can’t make your mouth work. Don’t move an inch. 

“Can you hear me? y/n?” He asks again, his thumb brushing your cheek, “You’re safe, he’s not going to touch you again,” 

The hard feeling of Minseok’s hands on your hips pushing you into the practice room mirror snaps inside you and you release a soft sound. 

“You can hear me,” Yunho nods, “come on, wake up,” 

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is close again, hard and steady, “that’s not going to work,” 

“Why?” Yunho looks up to his friend, “she can hear me, she’s okay,” 

“She’s in subspace,” Mingi pushes his friend to the side, coming into your eye line, “she’s dropped so far under it’s going to take more than that,” 

“W-what do we do?” Yunho’s voice is shaky. 

“Let me try something,” Mingi murmurs, and then his eyes lock squarely on yours. 

Yunho slips his hand into yours, holding you tightly, but you can’t squeeze him back. 

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and it’s the clearest thing you’ve heard since sinking under the water, “Come up now.” 

Don’t move an inch.

“You need to come up now,” His fingers tighten on your cheek, “listen to me.” 

Don’t move an inch. 

“Why isn’t this working?” Yunho asks, squeezing your fingers. 

“I’m not sure,” Mingi’s voice is low, and then he shifts closer to your face, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,” 

All you can do is manage to make a quiet, tight noise, and even to your muddled brain you can hear the tenor of distress. 

“Come up now,” Mingi repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega.” 

You’re being torn in two, your primal brain fighting you every step of the way. 

He swallows hard, his voice dropping low in his chest, “Don’t disobey your alpha,”

Suddenly nothing but his voice exists. 

Mingi’s expression is cold, tight and ruthless, his rich tone cuts straight to your core, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it. Now,” He locks his hands on either side of your face and his next words are a pointed and perfectly clear command, “Come. Up.”  

The room is so much louder than you thought a moment ago. There’s shouting outside and you vaguely register San’s voice amongst the mix. The music from practice is still on low. Yunho’s leg is bouncing nervously, the athletic fabric making a rhythmic swish with every bob of his knee. You can hear your blood rushing in your ears. 

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, the first feeling that floods back into your body is intense shame.

“Oh my god,” Mingi’s expression crumbles and he pulls your limp body into his arms “you’re here? You’re with us?”

“M-Mingi,” Your vision clouds with tears again and every feeling that tried to course through your body while you were in subdrop crashes into you sideways.

“Shh,” He rocks you in his arms, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

A dull throb radiates through your skull and Yunho takes a sharp inhale, “She’s bleeding,”

“What?” Mingi pulls back, his hand searching your body.

“Here,” Yunho brushes the back of your hair, his fingers coming away with a small line of blood, “it’s not too bad,”

“What happened?” You reach for the cut at the back of your head, nervous tears coming up as you try to understand.

“You don’t remember?” Yunho asks.

“I’m,” You swallow hard, “it was practice? Or I was practicing? I had the room booked.”

“Yeah,” Yunho nods and squeezes your hand, “what else?”

The date. The hard set of Minseok’s jaw when you said no. His hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, the soft drag of his teeth and the flat of his tongue over your gland. Your shirt tearing when he hauled you up against the mirrors. Hands everywhere. Hands nowhere. The white ceiling. His voice, harsh and direct in your ears, the alpha tone unmistakable. Submit. Heel. Don’t move an inch. 

Your mouth is suddenly hot and watery, and your hands are shaking, “I’m… I’m going to be sick,”

“Shit,” Yunho moves fast, sliding across the floor to grab the wastebasket that sits under the desk, pushing it into your hands. 

You wretch instantly, shaking and heaving, losing the contents of your stomach into the plastic bin. 

“Okay,” Mingi soothes, gathering up your hair into one hand and holding it away from your face, “you’re okay,”

“He touched me,” Your hands won’t stop shaking, his voice flooding back, and you heave again, “the things he said,”

“Shh,” Yunho shifts closer, rubbing a hand up and down your back, “you’re safe. None of that is true,” 

“He talked to me like a dog,” You sob, “and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

“No.” Mingi’s voice is harsh and you twitch under his hands, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else. You didn’t let him do anything,” 

“I’ve never,” You wretch again, a dry heave with nothing to give and it makes your eyes watery. 

“We’re right here,” Yunho murmurs, “you’re safe.”

When you’re sure your stomach will hold, you push the wastebasket away and drop back to the floor, your head throbbing, “I’ve never been in subspace,”

“You’re not there now,” Mingi soothes.

“I don’t remember,” You manage, looking down at your mussed clothes, “it’s so muddled I can’t remember,”

“What can’t you remember?” Yunho asks softly.

You’re pretty sure you’d register it if his attempt at claiming had been successful, if the word attempt should even be in consideration at all, but the end is so fuzzy you just have to know. “Did he… did we?”

“No.” Yunho’s firm, sliding in front of you so he can make you look into his eyes, “absolutely not,”

Your mouth tastes terrible, but it’s the overwhelming bitter smell of him on you that doubles it and makes you want to throw up again even though your stomach is empty. 

“All I can smell is him,” You scrub your hands under your eyes to wipe away tears, “I can’t even breathe,”

“Take her,” Mingi says, “I’m getting water,”

Yunho pulls you into his arms, sitting back against the mirrored wall for some support and cradling you to his chest, “Come here, is this okay?” 

“Make it go away,” You hold onto his shirt and sigh into his neck, “please, Yunho, please,”

“Just breathe,” He soothes you, “I have you,” 

He smooths his thumbs over the glands in your wrists, easing the initial panic inside you, and then gently draws your head back with his hand, “It’s only me,” He murmurs, “you know I’d never hurt you,” 

Yunho licks a long stripe up your neck, and instantly your body starts to release, tense muscles unlocking and your fingers falling slack. His scent washes over you, enveloping you tenderly. 

“Y-Yunho,” you shudder as he licks another long stripe, moving to suck softly on the fleshy part of your neck that narrowly avoided teeth marks.

“Yes?” He kisses your neck softly, and licks again. 

“Thank you for coming for me,” You exhale slowly.

He stills, sinking closer and resting his closed lips on your shoulder. When he breathes in you hear the catch of emotion, “I thought we were too late,”

“I’m okay,” You murmur, and it’s starting to feel true now that he’s washing away Minseok’s scent.

“God,” He sighs into your skin, “when I heard you scream… I’ve never heard anything that terrifying in my life, I’ve never run so fast,”

“Did I scream?” You don’t remember it.

“Bloody murder,” He nods, pulling back to look at your eyes.

“Yunho,” Your eyes flick up towards the open door of the practice studio, “where is he?”

His hands tighten on you, “Probably nursing his broken ribs. The guys have him,”

Your eyes widen, and the realization that he’s still under the same roof has you trembling in his arms, “He’s still here,”

“Not for long,” He murmurs, “we called the police,”

“But,” Your mind is spinning and you feel the weight of him on your chest once more, “what if he comes back?”

“y/n,” Yunho draws your eyes away from the door, “San and Seonghwa have him, and he’s in rough shape. He’s probably focused on trying to breathe, not thinking about you anymore. And even if none of that were true and he did come back,” he says, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.”

Your muscles start to relax again, “Okay,”

“You are completely safe,”

Mingi reappears a few moments later, bottles of water in hand, and he smiles warmly, “Hey, you,”

“Hey,”

“Feeling a little better?” He asks, settling on the hard practice room floor and passing you an open bottle.

“I don’t know,” You murmur honestly, shifting in Yunho’s arms so that you’re resting on his lap with your back against his chest. You take a long drink of water and sigh. 

“Listen,” Mingi smooths a hand across your thigh, “the police are going to want to talk to you. They’ll be here within the hour and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Why?” You tense.

“Your head,” He nods.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Yunho assures you, “but he’s right, you could have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,”

“I didn’t realize you had a medical degree,” Mingi says, a little edge to his voice.

Hot tears well in your eyes at his tone, and you shrink back into Yunho’s arms. You know rationally he didn’t mean to scare you, he’s just worried about you, but after the day you’ve had you can’t help but shrink back in fear.  

“Hey,” Yunho presses his lips to your neck, “it’s alright, Mingi didn’t mean it like that”

Mingi’s eyes blow wide, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything,”

“I know,” You tip your head to the side to offer more of your throat to Yunho’s soothing touches, “I’m just not myself,”

“It’s okay,” Yunho says again, returning to your neck and peppering kisses across your gland, and something about this should feel intimate and awkward when you haven’t talked to them yet, but all you can feel is safe.

“Really,” Mingi reaches for you, but doesn’t touch you, “I just want you to let us help, and I’m so angry with Minseok I could kill him, but I didn’t mean to put that on you,”

“Mingi,” You take his outstretched hand, “I’m okay, you just startled me, and you’re right anyways. I’ll come to the hospital,”

He sighs in relief.

“After,” Yunho murmurs, “would you - I mean, will you please come home with us tonight?”

It’s strange how much you feel like it is home, despite only spending your heat there, months ago, so long ago now you shouldn’t still feel this preternatural pull. 

“I don’t know,” You say, even though your body is begging you to agree, to stay with them and only them. 

“I know it’s been different between us,” He murmurs, arms tightening around you, “but you know how I feel. I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, someone should be with you,” 

“Someone you feel safe with,” Mingi adds, “if that’s us,” 

“It is,” You lock your hand down on Mingi’s, “I’m sorry, this is… of course you’re safe, of course you are. I’m just,” 

“Let’s talk about this later,” Mingi smiles, shooting a look at Yunho you can’t quite make sense of, but brushing your fears to the side all the same, “for now, let’s just get you taken care of.” 

You shudder out a breath, letting the warmth and safety of their bodies sink into you. You turn into Yunho, resting your cheek on his chest and matching your breath in time to his. Your thoughts spin, bubbling over as threads of the incident come back to your mind and you press your eyes closed before the question slips out, “Why did he do it?” 

Yunho wraps his arms around you a little tighter, dropping his lips to your hair, “I don’t know,” 

Mingi clears his throat, “He’s about to hit his rut,” he says, “that’s what his excuse was. He said he’s… he kept saying how sorry he was, but,” 

Your eyes snap open, “Sorry? He’s sorry?” 

“Sorry someone interrupted him, maybe,” Mingi’s voice is hard, his eyes firm and unrelenting, “a rut doesn’t make you do that. Not like that.” 

Yunho shakes his head in agreement, “Definitely not,” 

You know that, of course you know it, but after seeing Minseok’s black eyes you’re not so sure. You had never felt completely comfortable with him, but in the past you would have chalked that up to personality differences, and in the past few weeks that had all started to change. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t date, but you wouldn’t worry about bothering you. 

You sigh softly, “He didn’t seem like himself,” 

“Mm,” Mingi hums, non-committal. 

“A rut doesn’t make it impossible to hear the word no,” Yunho says firmly, “you don’t become some mindless animal. What he tried to do… that’s… a rut’s an easy excuse.” 

You tense up in his arms, a brief flicker of what could have been. His teeth in your neck, your mind spinning into submission. 

“Yunho,” Mingi shakes his head at his best friend, glancing down at you to indicate that it’s not something you can hear right now. 

“I’m sorry,” Yunho soothes, holding you closer if it’s at all possible. 

Your chest tightens, “Can I… I need to get up,” 

His arms relax immediately, hands shifting under your elbows to help support you while Mingi jumps up and offers you his hands to pull you up. Back on your own two feet you waver a minute, but you shake off the dizzy spell and try to get your bearings again. They're waiting on a razor’s edge, hands out and ready to intervene, but you’ve made it clear that for the moment you don’t want to be touched. 

A shout from the hall leaves you jumping, but you register Wooyoung’s voice a moment later, “Where is she?” 

“The studio,” San’s voice replies, “slow down,” 

“Is he in the back office? Give me a fucking minute alone with him,” Wooyoung’s voice is murderous and you smile at how ready your best friend sounds to do battle on your behalf, “I’ll show him what an omega can fucking do,” 

“Youngie,” San’s voice is even and warm, keeping things soft, “you need to calm down,” 

“Calm down,” He scoffs, his voice getting closer as he travels down the hall and you know he’s almost at the door. 

“I hardly think y/n needs,” San starts to say, but then they round the corner. 

Wooyoung’s eyes are wild, searching and terrified, and something inside you shatters. San’s words die on his lips when he sees you, and in a startling moment of clarity you rush forwards and into Wooyoung’s arms. 

“Shh, shh,” He wraps you up tight, one hand at the back of your head as he rocks you back and forth, “you’re safe, you’re in one piece,” 

“Woo,” Tears come fast, and you bury your face in his chest. 

“Stupid fucking alphas,” He curses into your shoulder and you can hear his breath hitched and clouded with tears of his own, “acting like they can take whatever they want,” 

You’re sure the rest of the room is bristling at that comment but you couldn’t care less. 

“You want me to break the rest of his ribs?” He kisses your head, “I’ll make it look like a fucking accident, I swear to God,” 

“Woo,” You laugh into his chest, vision blurry with unshed tears, “stop, that’s insane,” 

“I am nothing if not a little insane,” Wooyoung squeezes you, “and you and me? We protect each other, right?” 

“Always,” You grip the back of his shirt like a lifeline. 

The bond between omegas can’t be understood by a single other person in the room, maybe even in the building. You cling to each other in the middle of the studio floor, encased in this moment of shared grief. Of what you are and what that means. He shifts you in his arms so he can look at your face, cupping your tear stained cheeks. 

The sight of his own tears makes yours come faster, “What did I do?” 

His expression hardens and he shakes his head, sucking in a harsh breath, “Nothing, not a single fucking thing. Do you hear me?” 

“Woo,” You want him to let you go. You want him to tug you close again. 

He shakes your shoulders hard, and in your periphery you see Mingi take a half step forward as Wooyoung pushes back on your words, “You didn’t do anything. You’re existing, and he tried to take advantage of that. This isn’t your fault, there’s nothing you could have or should have done.” 

You open your mouth to say something but he plows forward. 

“Alphas take, alright?” He shakes you again, more gently this time, “We’re lucky. You and me, we found good ones, but alphas are programmed to take, and we’re programmed to give. He used it against you. Nothing else.”

Your breath hitches, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him cradle you again. 

“Shh, shh,” He rubs your back, soothing you again. 

“I hate this,” You manage, your face buried in his shoulder. 

“I know,” He eases you, “I fucking hate it too,” 

You hold each other a little longer until both of your tears start to subside. You stay steady in his grip, his fresh salt and cotton scent lulling you into safety. The buzzing of your brain starts to release, and the fear is still there under your skin but at least for now it’s low and letting you breathe. 

Nuzzling into his shoulder you sigh, “What are you doing back here anyways?” 

“San called,” He kisses your hair, “I broke several laws getting here,” 

You laugh against his collarbone where his oversized t-shirt is pulled down, no doubt from the way your hands grip whatever part of him you can. 

He rubs a warm hand up and down your back and when he speaks again it’s not to you, this time he addresses the alphas in the room. He clears his throat softly, head lifting up and away from yours, “So, who busted his nose?” 

“Uh,” Yunho makes a small sound behind you, “that would be me,” 

“Good,” Wooyoung says, “when she stops crying I’m giving you a handshake,” 

You smile against his damp skin and shake your head, “I’m not crying, I’m fine,” 

“Sure,” Wooyoung murmurs, but he doesn’t let you go, just strokes your back more until you settle further into him. 

“The police will be here soon,” San murmurs, his voice staying relaxed and steady to make sure everything stays level in the room. 

“Right,” Wooyoung sighs, “y/n, can I let you go? I don't have to if you’re not ready,” 

You nod immediately though, unwinding your arms from him and taking a ginger step back. He gives you a soft smile, and you scrub the last of the tears from your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. He gives you a minute to stand steady and then turns to Yunho and Mingi who both look frozen and unsure of what to do or what to say. 

“You both got him off her?” He says, matter of fact. 

“Yeah,” Mingi’s voice is tight, like he had been choking back tears of his own, and Yunho simply nods. 

“Thank you,” Wooyoung tugs Mingi into a hug and squeezes him tight before shifting to Yunho to hug him too, “seriously,” 

Once they break apart, you’re left all in a haphazard circle, and you can feel all the eyes on you. It makes you so tired, dizzy, ready to be done and just crawl under a blanket for the rest of the week. In the back of your throat you still taste bitter orange. 

“Um,” Your voice comes out a little more scratchy than you want, and you clear your throat, letting everything fade. 

“What is it?” Yunho asks gently. 

You don’t know how to ask this, how to beg them to keep holding you together so you can just get through existing in this room. You sigh, the deep exhale making you dizzy again, and step towards him, “C-can I,” 

He opens his arms immediately, letting you close the space so he doesn’t assume your needs, but as you collide with him again he responds perfectly, scooping you up into his arms and letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He supports you with ease, an arm under your thighs and another situated high on your back. 

“Better?” He murmurs, smiling a little as you bury your head in his neck. 

You nod into his neck, and then you allow yourself one tiny moment of weakness, listening to your body and what it needs for once over your anxiety. You mumble it into his neck, but he hears you when you say, “Yunho?” 

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is so soft, quiet like he’s afraid of what you might say. 

You don’t miss the way Wooyoung’s eyebrows go high at the endearment, but you ignore him and focus instead on the man holding you up, together, in one solid piece. You lift your head so he hears you clearly, “Will you please take me home?” 

He goes still and turns his head just a little, “Your apartment or,” 

“Take me home with you,” You repeat, “I want to go home,” 

This will surely just make everything more muddled and foggy between the three of you tomorrow in the cold light of day, but you don’t care. Right now you just want to be home, in whatever form that means. 

He exhales low and shaky, “Alright,” he murmurs, kissing your throat softly to help calm your trembling, “I’ve got you, let’s go home,” 

A warm wide palm rests on the center of your back, and Mingi leans in close to catch your eyes, “y/n, can you look at me a second?” 

You pull your head up from the crook of Yunho’s neck where you’ve just been taking deep steady inhales of wet earth and meet his eyes. 

“Hey,” He smiles. 

Your eyes dart between him and Wooyoung, who seems suddenly ancy. “What?” You straighten up a little more in Yunho’s arms. 

“You can go wherever you want,” He starts off, “but do you want us to take you home, or would you feel more comfortable with Wooyoung? Or… Seonghwa, if… if that would be better for how you’re feeling,” 

Yunho tenses a little, his fingers tightening where he holds you, and you can feel him physically holding himself back from saying a single word, from begging you to come with them. 

You’ve made up your mind though, and within a second you’re shaking your head, “No, I want you,” 

Yunho relaxes, his lips returning to your throat and you sigh. 

“Then you have us,” Mingi assures you. 

The sound of the elevators in the hall stop you all cold though, and San holds up his hands, “I’ll go see, it’s probably the police,” 

The idea of talking to them suddenly makes you sick, and you’re sure it shows all over your face. 

“It’s going to be fine,” Wooyoung jumps back in, “don’t worry, we’ll be there the whole time.” 

You need this to be done. You grip down on Yunho’s shoulders, “I want to go home,” 

“I know,” Mingi nods. 

“Y-Yunho,” You’re scrambling a little in his arms, sudden panic swirling in your gut, and you twist to find his eyes, “please, get me out of here, please take me home,” 

You feel it the minute he chooses you over anything else, “Okay, alright,” 

“You need to talk to the cops,” Wooyoung shakes his head, trying to reason with you. 

You’re trembling in Yunho’s arms and he shakes his head, “She needs to go,” 

Mingi senses your heightened emotions too and you feel it when he moves closer, both of them shifting to protect you, “She can do this later,” 

“I don’t know that that’s such a good idea,” Wooyoung insists. 

“I couldn’t give a fuck,” Yunho grips you tighter, “we’re taking our girl home,” 

“Your-” Wooyoung scoffs when he hears the words, “fucking alphas,” 

“Who she wants to take her home,” Mingi points out, a distinct edge to his voice. 

“Stop arguing,” You beg them, hanging onto Yunho’s shoulders, “please, please,” 

“Fuck,” Yunho relaxes, stroking your back, “I’m sorry, of course we won’t, I’m sorry,” 

Mingi brushes his hand over the back of your head and Wooyoung gives you an apologetic face, his defensiveness over you is understandable, but he also knows how you feel about these men and you watch him choose to hold his tongue. 

A knock on the door brings you all back to the present, San handling the situation with more grace than any of you combined, “The police said that they can speak with you at the hospital and make it brief.” 

You exhale heavily and nod against Yunho, “Okay, fine,” 

“Are you sure?” Mingi strokes your cheek. 

“I just want to be done,” 

“Should we stay with you?” Yunho murmurs. 

“Please,” You grip his shoulders. 

“Alright,” He sighs, “Woo, could you… I’m sorry, can you grab her things? Let’s just try to make this quick for her,” 

Wooyoung clears his throat, his eyes never leaving yours, “Yeah, I got it,” 

“Uh,” San interrupts as you all try to gather your things, “Yunho, they want to talk to you first, they’re waiting in the back office,” 

“Oh,” 

“They have some questions,” San explains quietly, “but she she doesn’t need to be there for that,” 

“Right,” Yunho nods and then presses a kiss to your hair, “can I put you down, sweetheart?” 

Your chest warms. 

“No, here,” Mingi cuts in, his hand sweeping over your back and you feel them shift you from Yunho’s arms to his, “come here,” 

He settles you against his chest and you wrap around him just the same, soaking in the warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon. You let your eyes drift shut as you rest on his shoulder, “Hey, Mingi,” 

“Hey,” He says softly. 

“Thank you,” You sigh. 

“Mhm,” He rocks you a little as he takes your bags from Wooyoung and slings them over his shoulder, the combined weight of it and you not fazing him at all, “I told you once I’ll always be here, I meant it,” 

“I believe you,” You murmur into his throat. 

You rest here, Mingi’s thumb rubbing a comforting line over the back of your neck. 

“Time to go,” Wooyoung’s voice pipes back in, “there’s a car ready, Yunho will be there in a a few minutes,” 

“Alright,” Mingi presses a soft kiss to your hair, “here we go,” 

He carries you with ease, and you sink into the steady thump of his heart under your palm that’s keeping you grounded. Over his shoulder you watch Wooyoung walking with you and you see police officers down the hall. The door to the back office swings open and Yunho is leaning against the desk as he speaks with an officer. Seonghwa sits in a chair next to him, his head in his hands, blood coating his knuckles and the sleeves of his shirt. Something pulls in your gut, begging you to go to him, but then you’re outside and all you can feel is Mingi holding you as he ferries you into the car. 

“Do you need anything?” He asks as he settles you into the passenger seat 

“I don’t know,” You tell him honestly, letting your head drop back against the seat and taking a deep breath, eyes slipping closed. 

“Don’t fall asleep,” Wooyoung jumps forward, “keep your eyes open,” 

“I’m fine,” You tell him, but you still do what he asks. 

“Just in case,” Wooyoung presses, “you shouldn’t fuck with head injuries,” 

“He’s right,” Mingi murmurs, crouching next to you just outside the car, “and I’m sure you’re fine, but let’s just be sure, okay?” 

“Okay,” 

  A noise just past the two of them makes you jump. 

“It’s just Sannie,” Wooyoung assures you. 

You nod and Mingi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yunho’s almost done,” San announces, but he hurries to the car and leans in to check you, “doing okay?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Can you do something for me?” He cups your cheek to bring your eyes up to his. 

“Mhm,” You nod again. 

“I need you to just focus on us for a minute,” He moves to crouch next to Mingi, and then Wooyoung steps closer too, blocking out some of your peripheral vision. 

“Why?” You fight the urge to turn around. 

Red and blue lights flash in the car mirrors and you reflexively glance up at the rear view mirror, catching sight of an ambulance, and tension fills your stomach. 

San reaches up and catches your face again, “Hey, look at me,” 

You pull your eyes away, “Are they here for him?” 

“Yes,” San nods.

“Is he badly hurt?” Your mouth feels dry. 

There’s a pause and then Wooyoung sighs, “Don’t lie to her,” 

Mingi clears his throat softly, “He’s pretty busted up,” 

“Good,” You breathe. 

San smiles, taking your other hand in his and smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. The sound of the doors catches your attention again, and you resist the urge to turn around once again. San shakes his head a little, “Just keep looking at us,” 

“He really picked the wrong person to fuck with,” Wooyoung says, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder. 

An image of Seonghwa and his bloody knuckles flashes through your mind and your breath quickens, “Is Hwa okay?” 

Mingi’s brows draw together. 

“He’s fine,” San assures you immediately. 

“I saw blood,” You can’t articulate it exactly, the image is just static in your mind. 

“It’s not his blood,” San promises, “we’re all fine, Seonghwa is fine,” 

The sound of the ambulance doors swinging shut makes you jump. 

“Shh,” Mingi squeezes your hand, “you’re safe, you’re with me,” 

Everything in your body feels tense and stretched thin, but Mingi’s hand is solid in yours and you grip down on it, letting it tether you. 

You listen as the ambulance pulls away, your muscles unclenching one by one as the sound of the vehicle fades. 

“Woo,” You manage, “can you check on Hwa for me? And text me?” 

“Yeah,” He assures you, “I got you,” 

“Take a deep breath,” Mingi instructs you, “please, for me,” 

You take a long inhale and meet his eyes and he nods as you let the breath out low and slow through your nose. 

“Again, please,” He nods. 

You breathe again, the same steady pace, “I’m tired,” 

“It’s the adrenaline wearing off,” Mingi tells you, “but as soon as a doctor says you can sleep, you can rest,” 

“Okay,” You nod. 

San’s hand disconnects from yours and he starts to stand, “Yunho’s done,” 

You twist in your seat to see him, Wooyoung stepping out of the way, and you can see Yunho jogging towards the car, “Everything okay?” 

“Mhm,” Mingi keeps himself calm for you. 

“That took forever,” He says, “I’m sorry,” 

“It didn’t,” You shake your head, “don’t be sorry,” 

“You should go,” Wooyoung interrupts, “get her looked at,” 

You find your best friend’s eyes, “You’ll text me?” 

“Of course I will,” He nods, “but right now just focus on yourself. We’re all okay,” 

You nod, and your eyes feel heavy again already. You know they’ll be trying to keep you awake in the car at this rate. 

“Let’s go,” Mingi nods, “can I have my hand back for a minute?” He smiles at you. 

“Sorry,” You drop his hand, almost embarrassed at the way you’re clinging to him. 

“Go,” San ushers Yunho towards the driver’s side, “if you need anything, we’re here,” 

Before you know it everyone’s moving and your car door is shut. Yunho slides into the driver’s seat to your left and Mingi moves into the backseat behind you. 

You meet Wooyoung’s eyes through the window and he rests a hand over his chest. He mouths a simple message - I love you, okay?

You nod and the car starts to move, but you know he knows you love him too. 

Mingi shifts forwards in his seat as Yunho starts to drive, and his long arm reaches around to find your hand again. He laces your fingers together once and this time he doesn’t let go. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the warm, rich scent of their apartment almost takes you out at the knees when you finally cross the threshold, so overwhelmingly comforting and enveloping that you want nothing more than to bury yourself inside the feeling for days. Mingi nearly runs into your back when you stop short in the entryway and Yunho’s watching you carefully as he hangs up your jackets. 

“What?” Mingi nudges you gently. 

There’s a million things to say. Things left unsaid after your last conversation, that fight you wish you could forget. The letter. All the things you were planning on confessing Saturday. The way you want so badly to erase today and just be with them. Every ounce of their soothing physicality after Minseok brings all your emotions up tenfold. Their tenderness almost chokes you. All the things you want to say are stuck in your throat. You need to get your head on straight. You need sleep. 

“Hey,” Yunho waves a hand in front of your dazed expression, “are you alright?” 

Not really. The hospital was long and awkward, seeing a glimpse of Minseok’s name on a hospital room door even worse, and the police had so many questions that all sounded fairly judgemental. Not to mention the probing questions from the hospital staff about your cycle and if you’re close to pre-heat. As if that matters at all. You settle for something a little less dire though, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been a while,” 

Yunho’s ears darken to a deep shade of pink and he nods. 

“You can sleep in my room,” Mingi offers, “like before. We can stay or not stay, it’s up to you.” 

“I’d like to be alone,” You tell them, “if that’s alright,” 

“Of course,” Mingi smooths a hand down your arm, “whatever you want.” 

“Um,” You sigh heavily, “honestly I’m exhausted. I think I might just shower and sleep as long as you don’t mind,” 

Yunho shakes his head, gesturing towards the hall, “Not at all, just… call if you need anything,” 

You start back towards the bathroom, your eyes down and away from them, but Mingi calls out, “You remember where everything is?” 

There’s no way you could forget, and you call back that you’re fine. You got it. You just need to be alone, alone is good, alone feels safe. 

In the shower you scrub your skin raw, spending extra time and attention on your glands even though it makes your skin there puffy and red, pinpricks of blood at the surface of your skin and lilac bruises surrounding every edge. It doesn’t matter how comforting their scents are, nothing is taking away the deep intent of Minseok’s mouth on your neck - and the bitter, burnt citrus smell takes ages to wash away. By the time you finish, you’re about ready to collapse. 

Mingi leaves you clothes again, folded neatly on his bed and ready for you. They’re nowhere to be seen, taking your plea for time alone seriously. He’s laid out a clean pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, both fresh from the wash. The hoodie you had stolen during your heat lies next to it, and it’s a kind gesture, but suddenly you don’t want it. You want nothing. 

You toss the hoodie to the side and start to climb into the bed, but that smells so heavily of cinnamon spice that you can’t think straight. You had just gotten used to blissfully smelling nothing after your shower, and so you strip the bed entirely, discarding all of the pillows and blankets and sheets into the farthest corner of the room. 

The mattress is bare now, but once you turn the circulating fan off you fix the issue of the cold and his scent washing over you every time you try to close your eyes. You can still sense him, sense them, somewhere in the background, but here on the stripped bed in sterilized clothes with your skin rubbed raw, you can rest. 

You drift into sleep this way, your head clear. 

It doesn’t stay that way for long. 

You’re not sure how long you’re asleep before you wake in abject terror, but it must be at least a couple of hours with the sky outside pitch dark and the apartment completely quiet around you. It’s obvious you’re the only one awake, but your brain can’t quite process it right. All you feel is shaking fear and the echo of hands pressing you into the wall, fingers in your hair yanking your head to the side, teeth grazing against your throat. 

You scramble back, only to find the edge of the bed and you collapse off of it, ending up on the wood floor with your head spinning, Mingi’s bedside table lamp crashing down after you, a harsh flash of light pulsing through the room as the bulb breaks and gives one final dying flicker. 

The pleading whine that’s caught in your throat sounds like a trapped animal to your ears, the pounding of your heart threatening to break your chest, blood rushing through your ears like a train. You can’t grasp reality, everything feels hazy and disconnected. 

The door to your right bangs open, Yunho bleary and confused, but responding to your heightened state of fear within a moment. “Mingi!” He calls over his shoulder, “Mingi, get up right now,” 

There’s a faraway faint noise from the other room. 

Yunho skids to your side, careful not to touch you as he tries to meet your eyes in the dark, “Sweetheart, it’s just a nightmare.” 

Part of you knows that you’re awake, safe and home, and not trapped in subspace with a threatening hand in your hair, but you can’t quite grip back to reality. You stutter out a reply, “I-I can’t breathe,” 

“Mingi,” Yunho calls back over his shoulder again, “right now!”

“Please,” you whimper, part of your brain still lodged in the nightmare, “I can’t breathe,” Your hands cling onto the edge of the rug.

Mingi stumbles into the room now, half asleep but forced into consciousness and he’s shaking himself, catching up quickly, “What’s going on?” 

You hear him, but your body is stuck remembering and you feel like there’s a weight on your chest, pressing you down harder, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe,” you stutter. 

“Sweetheart,” Yunho comes closer now, his body curling around you carefully with his face directly at your side, “it’s a nightmare, you’re safe.” His arms loop around you gently, but stay open in case you need to move.

“I can’t,” you shake your head, images swimming before you. 

“You’re not there,” he tells you, “we’re home, you’re with us, me and Mingi,” 

You wheeze, trying to regulate your breath. 

“Get a light,” Yunho pleads suddenly to the dark room, and you can hear scrambling, “she can’t see where she is, get a light on.” 

Mingi trips over the discarded lamp on the floor, and fumbles back to the lightswitch on the wall near the door, searching for it with his hands but reluctant to tear his eyes away from you. Suddenly the room floods with the overhead light, a stark fluorescent glow, and the black spots across your vision start to clear.

“I have you, I have you,” Yunho repeats, holding you to him. 

Your hand searches blindly for Mingi on the other side of you and he collapses next to you both, taking your hand and moving in to cradle you from the opposite side, “Baby,” he murmurs, “look around, look where you are,” 

Yunho’s hand on your thigh grounds you, and then Mingi softly touches your jaw to draw your gaze to him, “Look at me,” 

Your eyes flick up. He looks tired, exhausted even, his hair a wayward haystack. You blink hard, “What happened to you?” 

“To me?” Mingi’s brow furrows and he glances up past you to Yunho. 

“You need sleep,” You manage. 

Mingi laughs sharply and cups your cheeks, “I’ll sleep later. Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Your place,” You manage, and you feel the nightmare receding back into your mind inch by precious inch, your breath steadying out. 

“Yeah,” He sighs, “Yeah, that’s right,” 

“I’m home with you,” You repeat, your fingers sinking into the plush rug beneath you. 

Yunho swallows hard, fixated on the way you’ve called their apartment home, not their home, for the third time tonight. You watch the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but he lets it pass and so do you. 

Tears well up in your eyes again and you sigh, “I’m sorry about your lamp,” 

“What?” Mingi’s brow furrows, “Who cares about that?” 

“Still,” You manage, “I’m such a mess right now,” 

“If you weren’t a mess I’d be more worried,” Yunho takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers, “and you can take all the time you need to be a mess, we’re here.” 

You slump forwards onto his shoulder, “I’m… so tired,” 

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Yunho soothes, his voice soft. 

You nod, letting them both ease you up to your feet, but when they turn to the bed Mingi makes a soft, confused noise, “Where?” 

“Oh,” You gesture towards the corner where all his bedding is wrapped up in a ball, “I’m sorry I was just… it was too much,” 

Mingi’s jaw tightens, the muscles in his neck jumping as he swallows hard, and you know he’s holding down so much anger, that someone could have scared you enough that any alpha’s scent became overwhelming, that your fear might extend even to them. 

“Okay,” Yunho cuts in easily, “whatever you want,” 

He eases you back onto the mattress, but the idea that they might be gone again strikes a deep lance of panic through your stomach and you grasp his arm, “Don’t go,” 

“Are you sure?” He murmurs. 

“Please,” You insist, tugging his arm again. 

He eases down beside you, and Mingi crosses to the opposite side of the bed so he can follow suit, sidling up to your back but careful not to touch you until you make it clear that you want him to. You fold your arm underneath your head and rest yourself down, and when your hair shifts off your neck you hear Yunho’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of your tender gland. 

“Baby, what,” He reaches for you, fingertips hovering, “sweetheart, what did you do?” 

“I’m fine,” You murmur but when you feel fingers gently coast over the raw skin you hiss sharply in pain and both their hands pull back. 

“y/n,” Mingi’s voice is low, shaky, and he scoops up your arm to check your wrists, finding them as swollen and bruised, “oh my god,” 

“I know,” You murmur, letting your eyes drift shut. 

“This is not okay,” Mingi sounds pained, “you can’t hurt yourself like this,” 

“I’m okay, I promise,” 

“We could have helped,” Yunho insists, “we could have scented you again, both of us, or called Seonghwa, or something, anything,” 

“Seonghwa?” You start, but Mingi cuts you off as he pushes your hair further to the side to see more of your neck. 

He makes a tight noise with his tongue against his teeth, “These look tender, Yunho’s right,” 

“You scented me plenty,” You shake your head, letting your hair fall back into place, “but I promise, I’m okay,” 

Mingi wraps his arms around you from behind, tucking you close to his chest and dropping his head onto yours, “You’re scaring me,” he confesses into your hair. 

“I know,” You murmur, “but I wasn’t trying to hurt myself,” 

“And now?” Yunho asks softly. 

“I’m a little better,” You pull him closer, “I was overwhelmed earlier and… even you both I didn’t want, but now? I feel safer, clearer,” 

Yunho kisses your forehead, letting his lips linger as you all get your emotions back in check, “Okay,”  

“Can we stay just like this?” You nuzzle into him, pulling Mingi in closer behind you until you’re snuggled up so tight you might overheat . 

“I’ll be wherever you want,” Mingi wraps his hand around yours and tucks them into your chest.

Yunho murmurs his agreement softly and you nod, letting their heat soak into your body and releasing your tense muscles bit by bit. You were supposed to tell them how you felt already, you need to get it out in the open before things get too blurry again, but right now you have to let it go. 

Silence stretches between the three of you, their breathing even and low, and you’re not sure if they’re asleep or awake when you make your quiet plea in the dark but in a whisper you beg them to never, ever let you go again. At least for tonight, they hold you fast.

#this night together fic #honeyhotteoks fics #yunho x reader #mingi x reader #yungi x reader #yunho #mingi #yungi #ateez fic #yunho fic #mingi fic #yunho ff #mingi ff #ateez ff #ateez series

[adventuringblind]

Oscar the Matchmaker: Chapter Six

Oscar Jack Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: The media goes crazy over the trio

Warnings: some sexual innuendo

Notes: considering the next chapter to continuation of their steamy encounter at the end. What do y'all think? 🤔

Masterlist

The build-up to the next race was terrible. The media had been swarming her at every opportunity. Even taking liberties to follow her places.

Her PR team had been keeping things as controlled as they could, but the fans are a force to be reckond with.

They left for Hungary early. She had requested they do so. She wanted time to settle down before she had to run around through people. A request which both boys made happen.

Now, she lay wrapped between them in their arms. It's a peaceful place to be. If she never had to leave, then she'd gladly stay here forever.

"Do you think the fans will still like me?" She whispers into Oscar's chest.

"My answer is still the same. Yes, they will still like you."

"If they start saying shit then I'll personally see that it stops." Adds Max. His words vibrate against her back in a soothing way. "The teams know your story. They saw what happened. You have no obligation to share that information if you don't want to."

The fans seem to be divided. Some say she has the money to make it look like she's the victim. Others say it's obvious she's the victim. Some fans are even saying that their relationship is just a massive cover.

Thankfully, her grid friends had come to the rescue. They all posted about her; about them. All of them writing things so kind it made her cry.

~

Media day came around far too soon. The boys make sure to walk her all the way to AlphaTauri, as is routine.

This time, they are joined by Lando, then they pick up Charles and George, and at some point Carlos and Alex.

The group waves her off to the safety of her garage. Watching her meet up with Yuki at the door.

"If any of the vultures ask about it, I will be setting the media pen on fire." Max claims through gritted teeth.

She thought she would be in the safe with the Thursday driver press conference. She was wrong to assume anything. Apparently, drama makes them bring her back.

It gets a little better as she sees that the other two didn't escape it either. They make space in between them for her to sit down. Charles and Pierre are on the far end of the couch chatting before things get started.

All three of them lean in for a hushed conversation.

"Plans for answering unwanted questions?" She asks.

"Sarcasm. Unless you want to answer differently." States Max and Oscar shakes his head in agreement.

They make it through the first part without any odd questions. It's the open floor where things start to get tricky.

"Will Buxton, Skay Sports: question for Max, Oscar, and Y/N." She tries to suppress a groan. Of course it would be him. The one who loves to make Max out to be a villain and her to be a slut. "How does it feel to be out to the world? Could you give us any insights into your relationship and if there is any truth to the rumors?"

Cue an angry Max and stone cold Oscar. She almost wants to laugh at Will and his poor choices.

Max goes first without anyone having to ask. "I personally feel great. It wasn't how we wanted it to happen, but I'm glad that I can hold their hands in public now."

Oscar goes next. Probably to give her time to think. "So me and Y/N have been dating since F2, and Max joined us early this year."

A shock rolls through the crowd. There's one rumor taken care of at least. Now, she can choose to do the rest nicely or sarcastically. She chooses both.

"There are a few rumors going around right now. The one about us being fake is a lie. We've been together for a while now." She looks between her two counterparts for reassurance. They give her warm smiles and encourage her to move forward with whatever she wants to say.

There is definitely a shake in her voice this time as she continues. "The rumor about me being the aggressor is also a lie. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I've been through enough already and am not keen on reliving it. Oscar and Max can attest to the fact that I will make myself sick trying to talk about it. I order to not cause a scene, I will no longer be speaking about the matter."

She comes out of the press conference and immediately falls onto the ground, clutching her stomach. She's grateful her PR manager is there waiting for her. Otherwise, she probably wouldn't be able to keep going.

Oscar and Max help her up, watch her drink some water, and then return to their own garages.

"Do you want to try and get media over with now? Or do you want to wait a bit?"

She can't help but admire the level headedness of the kind woman beside her as she will be losing her patience with the questions she's been trying so hard to push away.

~

Max wants to scream. Maybe even punch something. Or preferably, someone.

He storms his way through the media pen. Nobody even stops him as he does. His PR manager told him to him to go find Oscar as the Aussie has apparently been getting the brunt of the inappropriate questions since their female counterpart had been escorted away for a break.

The trio and their PR managers have a new group chat for this very reason. The drama of their coming out has made all six need to stay in communication.

So, when he got word, he was released to go help his partner escape the awkwardness of the situation. Because nobody is going to mess with Mad Max and make his partners uncomfortable.

He finds Oscar in the middle of answering a question. A microphone to his mouth and eyes flickering everywhere searching for an answer he doesn't have.

Without any hesitation, Max stands right next to his boyfriend and interjects himself into the conversation.

"Speak of the devil, here is Max right now!" says the interviewer enthusiastically. "I was just asking about the nature of your relationship since you are a world champion and dating not one, but two rookies."

Oh, the nerve. Max has half a mind to ask the interviewer who's dick he had to suck to get his job and see how he likes it. "Not sure what you're implying, Mate?" Max tilts his head in feigned confusion. He can just barely see the two PR managers almost giggling out of the corner of his eye. The Dutch has a way of making the media regrat they ever asked such things.

"Just wondering how things between the three of you work. You know- If you're helping them in their career at all."

He feels about ten seconds away from jamming the microphone into the reporter's skull. But he refrains since his PR manager is even letting him do this.

"I honestly don't think they need any help. If you're implying that they are using me, I'm using them, or this is anything other than our love and respect for one another, then I will kindly ask you to fuck off." Max grabs Oscar's hand and the Aussie tries to give a PR worthy smile. The two walk over to their managers and both are shaking their heads at him.

~

All three of them collapse in a heap on the bed. Media day was absolutely exhausting. The trio had been dragged through a PR nightmare on loop.

"If I never talk to a reporter again, it'll be too soon." Max grumbles. The other two hum I'm agreement.

It took a minute for the two males to make out the small whisper of 'I'm sorry.' The female had been guilty about everything that happened. She has started to constantly apologize for things out of her control.

"I think I know the perfect way to relax and pull your head away schat."

Oscar runs his fingers along her spine. His eyebrows quirk up at Max in curiosity.

~

A bath.

Max's plan is a bath.

She's grateful that the Dutch has a bath bigger than the other two. It's not massive in the way of a hot tub. Yet it's perfect for the three of them.

The water is warm on her skin. Her back rests against Oscar's chest. Max is facing them to make the space more comfortable, but she wishes he were right next to them so she could lean on him too.

Even after everything, they are still here. Something about that thought makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Have you heard from your family this weekend, Osc?" She asks. The Aussie had been summoned home by his mother and demanded he bring his two partners along with him.

"Pretty sure my family loves you two more than me." He laughs. "What about you, Maxy?"

Max lets out a heavy sigh and sinks further into the water. "Dad has been texting me occasionally, but I've been ignoring him. Mom and Victoria want to meet you both in person soon." A small smile tugs at Max's lips. The Dutch loves his sister and his niece and nephew. "And you Schatz?"

She grimaces at the thought. "A few texts here and there."

"About?"

"How I should come home and pray away my sins." She rolls her eyes. "They think you two should do the same. That all of us need to stop whoring around."

Oscar smirks into her neck. "The only thing I intend on worshipping is you."

She can feel the heat rise in her cheeks at the implications.

Max sits up again and leans closer to her. "Or maybe you want to be on your knees praying to a different alter."

And there is is. Every working brain cell turned into mush. She whines at the thought. Almost shocking herself at the noise.

It's going to be a long night.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #angst #max verstappen #oscar jack piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #super max #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #redbull racing #redbull #redbull f1 #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren racing #mclaren

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

I'm going to say this on every chapter i post here LOL, but GO TO CHAPTER 1 AND READ!!!!! MY!!!!!!! WARNINGS!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 3

[Prev] [Next]

You loved your office, you really did.  Two of your coworkers were your best friends from high school, the work-life balance was ideal, your bosses were super understanding and encouraging of all their employees endeavors, and the weekly catered lunches truly felt like a luxury.

The only qualm was the noise.

The office had an open layout, and while everyone had their own desk, it was very easy to move around the space and talk to everyone while on and off the job.  This meant any personal phone calls had to be taken out of the entire vicinity.  And in your case, into an unlocked broom closet across the industrial building’s hallway, in front of another agency’s door.

You were sitting on a plastic box containing something you weren’t sure of, anxiously bouncing your feet as your heart hammered in your chest.  Each time the ringback tone exited your speakers caused another cold wave of anxiety to flood from your head to the soles of your feet.  You swallowed a thick glob of spit as you struggled to maintain your breathing.  You were sure your blouse was going to have armpit stains when you returned to your desk.

Finally, a voice picked up the other line.

[Thank you for calling Grand Line Gynecology and Obstetrics, how can I help you today?]

The sweet, welcoming voice of the receptionist on the other end of the line made you breathe a sigh of relief, though you weren’t out of the woods just yet.  Far from it.  “Hi, uhm, I’m a patient with Dr. Robin, and I was wondering if I would be able to get an appointment as soon as possible.”

A few keyboard clicking noises followed your request.

[Can I have your name and date of birth?]

You quietly relayed your information, biting your lip impatiently.  More typing sounds could be heard.

[Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, and do you mind if I ask the purpose of your visit?]

You knew it was important information for your doctor to know prior to seeing you, but the thought still made a heavy pit develop in your stomach.  “Uhm… f-fertility consultation…?  I guess.”

More clicking.

[Of course, I’m looking up Dr. Robin’s availability right now, hold on just a moment, please!]

You’ve dealt with crappy phone receptionists in the past, but whoever was usually on the receiving end of your calls to your gynecologist was always so pleasant.  You could never quite recognise her voice in person, but her bubbly and patient speech was always greatly appreciated during your otherwise anxious phone calls.  Finally, she came back onto the line.

[Dr. Robin’s next available appointment isn’t for three months, unfortunately, but I can still fit you into that time slot if you would like!  I can also write your name down, so if any appointments open up sooner, we will give you a call.]

You breathed another sigh of relief.  “That would be amazing, thank you.”

[Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, I have you marked down for Thursday, May 1st at 10:00 AM.  We’ll give you a call if anything changes and you can always call us if you develop other concerns, okay?]

You smiled at the broom closet floor.  “I appreciate it, thank you very much.”  The phone clicked off after trading goodbyes, your arm falling onto your lap.  You hadn’t realized how tight you were gripping your phone until then, your hand trembling with how harsh your hold was on the device.  With a sigh, you opened your text conversation with Law.

Hi baby, I just called the obgyn, they cant fit me in until may 1st but she said if anything opens up theyll call me back.  Fingers crossed something opens up sooner, hopefully you dont have to wait as long!  I’ll see you later, i love youuuuu ^3^

You put your phone to sleep and stuffed it into the pocket of your trousers as you finally exited the broom closet.  An employee of the agency across from yours was entering his office and tossed you a very confused glance at you leaving the innocuous room, but you paid him no mind as you walked back into your office to continue your work.

“There you are, I was wondering where you went!”  Ikkaku was waiting for you at your desk with her work laptop in hand.  “I wanted to go over a few designs with you, but when I went to find you, you were just, POOF!  Gone like the wind!”

You laughed at her excited talking, finally sitting at your desk again and grabbing an unoccupied chair for your friend to sit in.  “Sorry to make you wait, I had to take a phone call.”

Ikkaku brushed off having to wait with a cheery, “It’s fine!  No biggie!” before opening her laptop and inputting her passcode.  You felt your phone buzz in your pocket.  While Ikkaku was opening her files, you slipped out your device and tapped the screen.

Baby~~<3

Hopefully something opens up, but it’s good that you at least got an appointment.  I got my appointment with urology on my lunch break today.  We’re making steps.  I love you, see you later.

You smiled at the text.

“Why does Law need to see a urologist?” Ikkaku whispered beside you, making you jump and hide your screen.  She was looking at you with curiosity in her big, brown eyes.

“It’s nothing, really.”  You quickly shoved your phone back into your pocket.  Ikkaku was your best friend, she really was, but the last thing you wanted to do was bring up your potential infertility issues while on the clock, and especially while your anxieties were still fresh and raw at the forefront of your brain.

Ikkaku must have sensed your profound fear, as she shrugged and turned her attention back to her laptop.  “So here’s what I was drafting…”

—

While you had to wait around three months for your appointment, Law’s was scheduled shockingly quick.  Almost too quick for his liking.  The following week.  Which, to Law’s mutual discomfort and relief, came much quicker than he thought it would.  

He was thanking the heavens above that he had the day off for once.

Law followed all the rules to a T before the appointment.  No ejaculation 2-3 days prior, but no longer than 5.  He’d jerk off into a sterile cup in the clinic, hand that to the doctor, and wait a few hours.  While waiting, he’d get his hormone blood work collected.  Easy as pie.  He walked into the clinic feeling oddly confident in himself and his abilities to follow pre-procedure protocol, as a doctor himself.  The brief moment of cocky joy was interrupted as soon as the fertility doctor entered the examination room Law was sitting in.

“Alriiiight!  Mr. Trafalgar Law!”  The doctor was shouting his name before even closing the door, making the black-haired man cringe.  The nametag on the open laboratory-style coat he wore read ‘Dr. Franky.’  Next to the name tag was a little enamel pin of a robot.  The door was closed with a moderate slam.  “You’re that cardiologist from New World Hospital, right?  You’re crazy popular, so cool to see you in the clinic!  So we’re here to check on your little swimmers, huh?”  Dr. Franky, who was shockingly tall and very broad in the shoulders, plopped into his seat and placed his laptop on the counter in front of him.  

The force of him sitting on the stool caused the pneumatic tube to compress forcefully downwards.  Law had a mental image in his head of the tube exploding and propelling the spring upward into the doctor’s ass.  He barely even registered the fact that his reputation as the city’s leading cardiothoracic surgeon seemed to have followed him to his semen analysis appointment.  He shook his head quickly before nodding.  “Uh, yeah, semen analysis.”

Dr. Franky was rapidly typing in whatever patient portal he was using.  “Semen analysis is such an uppity thing to call it, I personally like calling it the Super Swimming Meet!”  He laughed, the voice echoing around the small room and making Law wince.  He finally finished typing, slamming his laptop closed.  It was then Law noticed a few pieces of scotch tape holding the laptop’s hinges together.  (What kind of clinic is this?)  Franky’s booming voice interrupted Law’s thoughts.  “All you have to do is wank off into this cup here.  Cap it tightly and bring it to the nurse’s station when you’re done and it’ll get sent off into the lab!”

Law carefully took the cup from the doctor, his face heating up in embarrassment.  “Uhm… thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with before I leave you to it?”

Law wanted to ask if there was a different room he should be doing this in, or if handing the cup to a random nurse was proper protocol, but he honestly wanted nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible.  He was starting to regret his colleagues at the hospital giving him clinic recommendations.  “Uhh… no thank you, I think that’s everything.”

“Alright, Mr. Trafalgar, I’ll let you get to it!”  Dr. Franky left fairly quickly, much to Law’s relief.  His ears were still ringing with the volume of the doctor’s voice.

Law was now left alone, sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chair, holding the empty sterile plastic cup.  After that interaction, the last thing he was thinking of doing was masturbating, but he needed to get it over with.  For your sake, and his.

He awkwardly stood and undid his belt, letting his pants and boxers fall to the floor before placing a few napkins onto the plastic chair and sitting back down.  He shivered at the cold feeling of the napkin-covered chair against his bare ass.  This was the least erotic situation he could’ve ever experienced.  He figured it would be far from the norm, but this was beyond any expectation he could’ve developed.  He shivered.

Grabbing the cup again, Law unscrewed the cap just enough so that he’d be able to pop it open as soon as he needed to.  When he stared at his flaccid dick, however, he uttered a defeated sigh.

‘Think of something to get you hard, man, think of your wife,’ he told himself.  Even his inner voice was desperate.

The sterile doctor’s office was completely inhibiting any thoughts of you to remain permanent in his head.  Every time he tried to think of your smell, your taste, the feeling of your bare flesh against his fingers, he would inhale and take in the bland stench of sterile alcohol and plastic.  He groaned.

Reaching into his pants pocket on the floor, he procured his phone.  Opening an incognito window on his web browser, he inwardly apologized to you (and double checked that the door was locked) before opening up a porn website for the first time since he was an undergrad in college.

—

Law came home a few hours after you.  You were standing at the stove setting the oven preheat temperature, a loaf pan of uncooked banana bread sitting on the stove top waiting to bake.  You turned to ask how his appointments went, but kept your mouth shut when you saw Law kick his shoes off and sit at the bar counter in your kitchen, placing his head in his hands.

“What happened?” you hurried over to him, immediately growing anxious that he had received bad news.  Your stomach turned.

He lifted his head.  “I… I had to watch porn today.”

#trafalgar law x reader #fem reader #law x reader #reader insert #x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #op x reader #im losing you

[sgkophie]

Hate To Love You - Chapter 6 - The Lady Doth Protest (Charles Leclerc Series)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (OFC) Warnings: language Word Count: 3200 Tag List: Drop a comment or add your name HERE. Synopsis: Enemies to lovers + sizzling banter + fake dating with Charles Leclerc. Full synopsis & master list HERE.  Author’s Note: Wow, it's been way too long and damn it feels good to be back with you all. I'm feeling good about posting 3-4k words each week, probably on Thursdays or Fridays. THANK YOU for your patience!!! It's been a crazy summer and fall, here's to a nice and settled winter ❤️ A Man's World has officially been PUBLISHED. Interested in a copy? Click HERE! As always your feedback on my content is truly INSPIRING and makes my day, so if you liked the chapter let me know what you think below in the comments! I eat them up like DESSERT! Want more updates or just want to launch at my hilarious Georgia and Lily reels? Follow me on TikTok Or Instagram! @authorgracenewman Now enough of my shameless self-promotion... let's get back to Lily and Charles!

You'll definitely want to chapter up with Chapter 5 HERE.

I woke up the next morning to the ringing of my cell phone. With my eyes still groggy with sleep, I turned over and groaned, reaching over to the bedside table as I fumbled for the device. The phone stopped as soon as I grabbed it, and I sighed in relief, hoping that whoever was on the other end of the phone call had realized that it was still the morning, although I knew I should already be awake.

As soon as the ringing stopped, my mind wandered back to last night, and the horror of what I had done settled on my chest. I’d done what I had promised I would never do again –  I’d ended up back in bed with Charles fucking Leclerc. Charles had once again dragged me back under his spell, and just like last time, he had managed to leave me feeling as if I was trash in the gutter just by one look on his face.

Regret.

Charles had regretted me the last time we had traveled down that road, and I knew he regretted me this time. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I didn’t care about how Charles Leclerc felt about me, I knew deep inside my soul that it wasn’t true, especially not when that feeling was regret.

I looked at my phone and immediately went to open Instagram, but before I could open the app my phone rang again, and Georgia Dubois’s name flashed on the phone’s screen.

What on earth did Georgia want with me on a morning after a night out?

“Georgia… I feel like the pre-season debrief could wait until we’re back at the office, hmm?”

“Lily, I need you to come to my room, now. Floor 15, room 1568.” There was urgency in her voice, urgency and something else., something that sounded like panic.

“… Now as in… now now?”

“See you in five.” Before I could protest, Georgia hung up the phone. I looked at the clock - 10:10 a.m., which meant the hallways would be fairly empty since most guests had either left on early flights or were still hungover in their rooms. I threw on some clothes and made my way up to Georgia’s floor, which was of course much higher up than mine.

No expense spared when it comes to Ferrari and their drivers, I scoffed to myself. The Mercedes F1 team was known for its cost savings when it came to hotels and drivers. Lewis used to always complain that as a 7x World Champion, he was lucky to get a suite when it came to Toto and Mercedes’ purse strings.

I headed straight to the room that Georgia had texted me and knocked on the door. It was as if Georgia had been standing there waiting for me, because she opened it on the second knock, causing me to fall forward, only to catch myself on the coat rack that had been placed right next to the door.

“Jesus, Georgie…” I grunted, shaking off the small moment of shock as I walked into the room. Seated on the couch was her fiance Carlos, who just nodded my way as he kept his eyes on the TV, glued to the Real Madrid game going on in the background.

Georgia motioned for me to take a seat, which I obliged as Carlos immediately lowered the volume of the television, finally turning to face me and Georgia. As soon as Carlos looked at me, I felt dread take over my entire body. Carlos was always so happy-go-lucky – and I likened him to a golden retriever, barely anything got him down, but the solemn nature of his face told me exactly why I was here.

“Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the three of us. I could see that Georgia was trying to find her words.

“So… after the pre-season party last night, what did you do?” Georgia finally asked, and I frowned, giving her a pointed look to let her know that I wasn’t thrilled with her nosy question.

“Not really any of your business,” I scoffed at my ex-teammate, but I knew my cheeks had gone slightly red. I wasn’t sure what Georgia had heard, but I wasn’t about to admit that I had slept with her brother last night.

“Well, it seems like it is my business now,” Georgia quipped, clearly unimpressed with my snarky reply. Her tone sounded like a mother who had just caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.

“… just fucking spit it out, Georgia.”

“Lily, I don’t care if you and Charles are fucking. I don’t care that you and Pierre are fucking. Hell, I don’t care if you have slept with the whole fucking grid…” Georgia’s tone was sharp, and I could feel her words start to slice through me.

So she did know that I had slept with her ex-boyfriend Pierre. Guess I wasn’t as discreet as I had hoped.   

Before I could get a word in, Georgia continued, “… but what I do care about, is your reputation. As only one of two women on the grid, you know what is at stake here. I fucking hate that the entire world looks at the female drivers through a magnifying glass, but they do. The world shouldn’t care about who you are with, and quite frankly, it’s none of their business… but that just isn’t the case.

What we do is, and for the foreseeable future will be, looked at through a microscope. Am I making any sense to you?” Georgia sighed and looked back at Carlos, who just grabbed her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before nodding at her in supportive agreement.

As if out of instinct, I felt my lips starting to apologize to Georgia. “Look, Georgia… I’m sorry about…” But before I could finish, Georgia cut me off, putting her hand up to signal that her tirade wasn’t yet complete. 

“I’m not done, Lily,” she said tiredly. I could see that the actual lecture was about to happen, and I felt my stomach sink to the floor. By the look on her face, I knew she was more upset with me for something other than sleeping with her brother – and that thought disturned me more than Georgia admitting she already knew that I had slept with her brother and ex-boyfriend.

“Lily, someone caught you and Charles in the elevator last night. And to make matters worse, as of this morning, the video is all over Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, you name it. I had a call from Toto this morning, who debriefed me on the situation… 

Lily, are you listening to me?”

No, I wasn’t listening one bit. Truth was, I had stopped listening after the word ‘caught.’ Dread started to fill my entire body, and I could feel my hands and legs start to shake from all-consuming panic.

How could I be so fucking stupid? Of course, someone had caught us. Charles was the number 1 driver on the grid, people knew his face everywhere, and this hotel was crawling with tourists.

I just stared back at my racing coach, not able to utter a single word. The silence for the next minute was deafening, and it was clear that even Georgia didn’t want to continue with this conversation, but I could see from the urgency in her eyes that we had no other choice.

“How bad is it?” I eventually managed to force out my question, gazing up at Georgia through my flooded eyes.

“Salvageable,” was all she responded.

“What are they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I knew from the look in her eye and tone of her voice that it did matter.

“Bull shit, Georgie. We both know I’m going to hear it eventually from my mother, so you might as well spit it out.” The uneasy expression on her face and exasperated sigh told me exactly how bad it was, and I immediately pulled out my phone, but Georgia grabbed it from me, placing it back on the table screen facing down.

“Let me guess, it’s a lot worse for me than it is for your brother?” I scoffed, and the lack of response from both Georgia and Carlos confirmed my suspicions.

It was always worse for the woman.

“It’s not great for either of you, honestly.” Again, she paused, and as I watched her mouth something to Carlos, the anger inside of me started to explode into full-blown rage.

Fuck this.

“Georgia, if you don’t tell me what’s happening this instant, I am going to go down the hallway and start yelling until I find someone who does. Clearly, Toto and the team have asked you to tell me what is going on, so spit it out. This torturous silence and limbo you have me in is crucifying my soul!”

“I know, you’re right,” Georgia sighed. “Here’s the lowdown. You and Charles were caught, in the elevator, before rushing into his hotel room. The tourist, or whoever it was, filmed the two of you. Unfortunately, they also caught you coming out of Charles’ room, looking like you were doing a walk of shame.

“By early this morning, the photos were all over the internet, and The Sun posted a ludicrous story a few hours on the matter.”

“Please, no one believes The Sun. I mean, it’s The Sun, the crappiest tabloid ever made. Plus, these photos should blow over in a week - maybe two tops, right?”

“Yes… except this morning, someone decided to fan the flames of the article.” Georgia didn’t have to say the words for me to know exactly who it was.

Fucking Louis, my ex-boyfriend, and the gift that kept on giving. Every fiber of my being told me he was behind this, and if he wasn’t behind it, I knew he damn well would make the most of it.

“Louis was caught this morning at the airport offering up his opinions on the photos in front of tourists, VIPs… anyone that would listen…”

“Lucky me,” I sneered. “And tell me, what did my dear ex-boyfriend have to say about this?”

“He insinuated that you and Charles have been sleeping around for a while.”

“And by ‘insinuated,’ he just fucking flat out said it, didn’t he?” Again, the silence between the three of us told me everything I needed to know.

Oh, Louis. 

He must have been immensely pleased with himself in that moment. He had always believed Charles and I had slept together during my first season in Formula 1, something I never confirmed as I knew it would only serve to make him more jealous. 

I couldn't risk Louis's suspicions of Pierre growing further by making him aware that I had slept with someone else on the grid – that wasn't a reputation I wanted for myself.

”Georgia’s foot was now tapping up and down as she eyed me warily, not ready to utter the words that I could see were killing her on the inside.

“He accused you of sleeping around the grid, said that Charles wasn’t the only one…. Lily, Louis said that’s why you came third in the championship behind Charles last year, because you have been sleeping with him and a few of the guys.”

“I’m sorry… did my ex-boyfriend, who I caught in bed with another woman, dare to accuse me of cheating on him when he's had his dick in how much pussy?” I was now standing, my arms outstretched as I just motioned to me and then back to my phone like a buffoon. I was both speechless and had too much to say at the same time.

“Not in so many words.”

“Good grief, Georgia, just say yes.” My voice was laced with sarcasm as I said the words. I knew lashing out at one of my closest friends was not the answer, but the utter despair and frustration of this conversation was starting to get the best of me. My racing coach was phenomenal with data –bad with people.

“Look, he didn’t directly say it, but it’s clear that social media is inferring it from his words, especially considering everyone assumed you guys were dating… and now you aren’t.”

“Everyone thinks we currently aren’t dating because he was seen with a new blond bimbo!” I exclaimed, still waving my hands frantically in the air as I stood up, as if that was going to make my point hit home. “Of course, everyone was going to think it was my fault. No one ever blames the white man… Let me guess, Charles is coming away unscathed from this one?”

“Now that is where you’re wrong. Apparently, his sponsors and PR team aren’t thrilled about him sleeping with one of the two women on the grid, especially not one that just got out of a relationship with a supposed friend of his.”

“I didn’t think who either of us slept with was any of our sponsor’s business.” Georgia just gave me a pointed look that told me to stop daydreaming – of course, sponsors cared. I was their property until they stopped paying my bills.

“But the good news is, there is a solution to this.” Georgia’s face slightly lit up, and I immediately knew where she was going with this. 

“You’re out of your mind. Like hell am I going to pretend to date Charles Leclerc. I don’t care if he’s your brother. I don’t care if he’s Ferrari’s golden boy. I don’t care that his stupid smug face could save my career. No. No way. Not a chance.” I downed my coffee and began pacing the room, but Georgia’s silence and slight uptick of her mouth told me that nothing I said had gotten through to her.

“Why do you hate my brother so much?” Georgia’s tone wasn’t as upset as I had expected. As twins, she and Charles were incredibly close, and yet Georgia always seemed so amused by the visceral reaction I had every time I saw her brother.

“I don’t hate your brother,” I bit back – unconvincingly.

“Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Georgia winked.

“There’s no way Charles would agree to this! Why would he? The sponsors aren’t actually going to drop the racer all of the bookies have their money on.”

“No, you’re probably right, but his sponsors could make this very, very painful for him. Being seen having a one-night stand with a female driver who was dating your friend and a fellow racecar driver jsut days after their supposed break up, is a very bad look for Charles – and judging by the comments on his Instagram this morning, the fans have noticed. Believe it or not – Charles loves his golden boy image, and that image is unmistakably tarnished.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe that Charles loves his golden-boy image.” I couldn’t help but snicker, as if Georgia thought the entire grid wasn’t constantly witnessing Charles enjoy his status as the grid’s most desirable driver. The press loved him. The fans loved him. All of Monaco loved him.

Well, I guess until he slept with a certain rebellious Brit. That thought had me slightly grinning, a grin that was quickly wiped off my face as Georgia cleared her throat; her look of disappointment was noticeable. 

“Georgia, there’s no way Charles is going to agree to this,” I insisted. The only thing Charles hated more than losing his precious reputation was the idea of dating the rebellious, stubborn British driver whose dirty laundry filled up a laundromat full of machines. 

“He already has.”

Stunned didn’t describe how I felt as Georgia said the words. Not a single bone in my body believed what she was saying. 

I was speechless.

“There’s no way…”

“There is. I spoke to my brother this morning after I chatted to Toto. Toto didn’t ask me if you were dating, but I could tell by his voice that he was definitely hopeful the two of you were dating. The Mercedes social media posts have been full of fan’s inquiries – and Toto said Petronas were asking as well.”

“So what you’re saying is none of these traditional sponsors want a grid slut… really puts a new meaning to grid girl.”

“Lily….” Georgia chastised as she rubbed her temples.

“No, no, it’s fine. No need to remind me of my place Georgia. I suppose I should be happy that my ‘hero’ Charles has come to my rescue, hmmm? Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Again, I knew the sarcasm was untimely and incredibly rude, but the entire thing felt like a slap in the face.

“Look, I know it’s not what you want, but not only will it help boost both of your images, but it’ll put all of those dating rumors from Louis at bay and shut him up. 

We’re looking to get ahead of things. If you and Charles announced that the two of you are dating, then Louis can’t exactly come out and say that 'no, in fact, Lily and I were dating.’ It would be much too embarrassing for him, especially since he has a new girlfriend. This stops all of the rumors about you and him and settles it once and for all.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There’s no way this was a good idea. Even if this worked, it wouldn’t matter, Charles and I would kill each other before either of us could see the benefits of this arrangement.

"And what does precious Charles get out of this?" 

"Charles can restore his image and reputation. He's always been a relationship boy, and his relationship with whatever-her-name-was has been out of the public eye for some time now. He's never been the one-night stand type of guy, and this way he can have a positive relationship that won't get in the way of his racing."

I threw my hands up in disbelief as I exclaimed, "That's just great! So now I'm helping not only my rival with his PR image but also his racing? Fabulous!" I could only hope that Georgia would pick up on the sarcasm in my voice. "As far as I see it, you're helping each other," she said pointedly, and I knew she was reminding me of what I had at stake here. "Look, you don’t have to get back to me today. We have a couple of weeks’ break, and you have a few days at home. Take a day to think on it?”

“I don’t have to think on it. It’s a no.” Georgia just smiled at me as she sipped her small decaf coffee.

“Just take some time to think on it, Lily.” 

Without sparing Georgia a glance, I stormed out of her hotel room and marched myself back to mine. 

The notion of even considering this idea was so absurd that my blood boiled in rage.

Hell would have to freeze over before I would ever date Charles Leclerc. 

Hate To Love You Tag List

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[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 34

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

The night ended more lighthearted. Dr. Miller and I took advantage of the frozen lake and the scenery again, skating around and taking pictures of the winter wonderland. We had a few drinks, went out for dinner, and spent most of the night thereafter in the loft. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have left that little nook in the woods.

“We should rent this place again in the summer,” I said to him. “I bet it’s nice to kayak around.. maybe go fishing.. hike the trails. Oh, and I saw a new, little brewery is supposed to be having its grand opening in May nearby.”

Dr. Miller smiled. “I can book it now for July.”

I loved thinkin about the future, even if it was just a matter of months. For a second I daydreamed images of a tan Dr. Miller by my side, shirtless and glistening in the sun. It made me smirk.

Bidding a temporary farewell to the lakeside cabin was bittersweet, though Dr. Miller already put in a request for the summer before we took off for home.

“The good news is we have another getaway at my sister’s wedding next weekend,” Dr. Miller explained as we hit the highway. “Can you get off work for the rehearsal dinner on Friday? I may cancel Thursday’s class so we can hit the road when you get out of work on Thursday. It’s a pretty good haul up to Vermont.”

I nodded, “Of course. I can’t wait.”

When Tuesday’s class rolled around I decided to confront Trevor on the walk out. His constant stares were starting to bug me and he hadn’t spoken a word to me since the day I’d left Dr. Stevenson’s class to give a sneaky kiss to Dr. Miller in his office. A part of me wanted to ask him what he thought he knew, but I also didn’t want to accidentally rat myself out - or Dr. Miller.

Otherwise, I was very much into the class discussion, and loved how Dr. Miller smiled a certain way when he called on me to answer a question. I loved his class. On a side note, there was a certain level of sneaky amusement I felt from having this secret life with him. No one in the class had even the slightest indication that we lived together, or that we just celebrated Valentine's Day shacked up in a remote, lakeside cabin. There was a part of me that got off on our secret.

“So,” Dr. Miller clapped his hands together. “I'm going to post something for you to read and look over. You'll be able to even discuss points online if you'd like, but Thursday's class will not meet in person. My sister is getting married out of state and I'll be traveling to Vermont on Thursday in preparation for that.”

“Congratulations!” Someone's voice echoed off the walls, making a few others laugh. “To your sister,” the person added, drawing more laughter.

“Thank you,” Dr. Miller responded with a chuckle. “If there are no further questions -”

“Class dismissed,” the group said in unison.

I smiled to myself and stuffed my notebook into my bag. It was always odd to me as I left the classroom. Dr. Miller and I were so affectionate and borderline clingy everywhere else. That's the only part I hated - not being able to be ourselves during that short time frame we had together on campus.

My phone went off and I glanced down, smiling when I saw it was him. 

See you at home.

I glanced toward him and our eyes briefly met as he began packing up his black bag.

And then, as I ducked out into the hallway, Trevor leaned over getting a drink of water. He was one of the only people I ever saw use the water fountain in the building.

I went to call out to him but then decided against it. Why was I about to create a conflict out of nothing? Plus, I reminded myself, he had walked with me to class when I didn't want to walk alone.

I passed by, glancing over at him. Just as he finished getting a drink our eyes met for a brief moment. I looked away and kept walking, using the stairs to get up to the main floor.

Behind me, I heard Trevor clear his throat and then his feet peppered up the stairwell behind me. I yanked open the door to enter the lobby and Trevor’s footsteps came faster.

“Could you hold that, please?” His nasally voice called out.

I sighed to myself but turned around with a half-smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” He hurried to reach for the door and held it so I could go ahead first.

“No problem.” I continued walking and Trevor cleared his throat again as he scurried up beside me.

“Have any plans for the long weekend?” He asked, gripping the straps of his backpack as we wandered toward the main doors.

“Hmm.. I might go visit my parents,” I lied, “But nothing else. You?”

He shrugged. “I may go skiing.”

So am I, I thought, even though I didn't know how. Carol’s wedding. “You ski?”

“Doesn't everyone in the Catskills area?” He snorted a laugh at himself and I smirked.

“Everyone but me.” I smiled back. “I don't know how.”

“I've been skiing since I've been five.”

“Cool.”

“I could always give you lessons. I used to give lessons before I started working for UPS.”

“I didn't know you worked for UPS.”

“For now.” He grinned and followed me out into the parking lot.

I glanced over at him as he continued to trail me out into the parking lot. I felt like he was velcroed to me. He was so close.

“Well, I'll see ya later Trevor.” I reached for the handle on my car as I approached and he cleared his throat again.

What is his deal? I wanted to blurt it out, but I wasn’t the type to be super direct like that. He wasn’t doing anything wrong - just being awkward and slightly annoying.

Trevor raised a hand to wave, almost robotically, as I pulled out of the parking space and edged my way down the rows of cars to exit the campus parking lot. When I was close to a half-a-football field away, I caught a glimpse of him waving his hands wildly in my direction. I wasn’t even sure if he was trying to flag me down, or was summoning someone else. And so, I kept driving. I didn’t see Dr. Miller exit the building.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Miller approached Trevor when he heard the commotion.

Trevor reached into the pocket of his jacket and stared down at the screen of a cell phone. He eyed the screen, reading a notification as it flashed across.

YOUR STOWE, VT LIFT TICKETS ARE NOW AVAILABLE TO PUT INTO I-WALLET. CLICK THE BANNER TO CONFIRM.

Dr. Miller’s eyes landed on the familiar phone cover. He had the urge to yank it from Trevor’s hand and demand why he had (Y/N)’s phone, but he knew he had to restrain himself.

“Who’s the phone belong to?” Dr. Miller asked, knowing damn well who it belonged to.

“I-I..” Trevor looked down at it again and spoke to himself. “She said she couldn’t ski.” He scratched his head and continued to stare at the screen.

“Trevor.” Dr. Miller closed the gap between the two of them. “Why do you have that phone?”

“One of my friends from class dropped it,” he claimed, “She just drove off. I was trying to flag her down.” Trevor slipped the phone back into his pocket and Dr. Miller extended his hand.

“I’ll turn it in to campus police.”

He kept the phone in his coat. “I can do that.”

“I insist.” Dr. Miller nodded and kept his palm facing up a few inches in front of Trevor. “I’m sticking around here anyway to do a few things.”

Trevor stared up at him, and then looked back down to his hand. He didn’t immediately hand over the phone. “Where did you say your sister’s wedding was?”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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[allastoredeer]

I read the new chapter of Holy Suffering as soon as it came out and I love the way u write Lucifer. For the past few days I have been reading Radio apple fanfic and I hate how lucifer is portrayed in most of them, shy , innocent with Alastor after the fight, and kinda out of character for the both of them, cause they suddenly like each other, and I don’t see it in them. They like to piss each other off, that’s the whole ship point.

Ur Lucifer is so sassy, Hits all the Good Characterization checks in my brain, he’s such a delight to read, same for Alastor. U had me going speechless most of the time Alastor spoke, cause I honestly didn’t know what he was gonna say next. Writing Alastor it’s probably hard, cause he is misterious and always hides his emotions but You totally nailed it. Right now he is probably angry at Lucifer cause he ratted him out lol

Al be like the audacity of this man after he forced him to do this.🙄

Anywhizzle I just wanted to ask, for the overload meeting, is Charlie gonna send Lucifer with Alastor? Maybe as a snake or something, to make sure is he okay. Cause she really sounded mortified that she didn’t notice that Alastor was suffering and man Al definitely didn’t like that, but it’s not like he can say no to Charlie so

A nd is there like a schedule for next updates? I am really invested in this story and I honestly can’t wait to read more of it.

Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ Hahah Lucifer's got bite to him, for sure. He doesn't come off as the shy type to me. Awkward as hell, certainly. In the throes of depression, absolutely. And he cares about Charlie's opinion of him to a fault. But when it comes to someone throwing their weight around--or, more accurately, getting involved with Charlie (cough Alastor helping Charlie with the hotel, couch Adam fighting/hurting Charlie cough) he isn't afraid of getting his hands dirty.

Alastor is hard to write ಥ_ಥ I love him so much, but sometimes, I want to cut open his head and properly study his brain because f;knslnjsbj out of all the characters, he's the hardest for me to pin down, in terms of both dialogue and actions. He has such a way of talking, and such a distinct voice (his radio filter) that it's simultaneously easy to imagine his voice, but hard to put it to dialogue. So, I really appreciate hearing that I nailed it (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) Seriously, it's so appreciated to hear.

Nah, Alastor is going to be going to that one alone :3 It's going to be set in his POV, so we'll get some insight in his thoughts on the whole thing, and how he's handling his current affliction. I'm both excited to and nervous to get into it, because writing him in someone else's POV is hard, so writing him in his OWN POV is a little intimidating, but I'm mostly excited. I have a lot of thoughts for this series, and it's gonna be fun to explore them.

As for a schedule, I used to try to keep myself to one, and I've found that I have both a love/hate relationship with it. One the one hand, keeping a writing schedule is nice because it gives me a clear view of what I want to work on and an goal date to get it done, which is very nice for my ADHD brain.

BUT, on the other hand, when I start putting that pressure on myself to get it down, and I fail to actually reach that goal, it hits me pretty hard and it can take away my motivation and joy in writing the fic. It starts to feel more like a chore than a fun hobby I can do in my downtime.

Thankfully, I am DEEP in Hazbin Hotel hyperfixation, and the amazing feedback I've gotten from my fic's is certainly fueling my motivation. So thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments! It's seriously so helpful and I cherish ever single one of them.

If I had to give an estimate for when the next installment of the series will drop, I'd say either at the end of this week, or the beginning/middle of next week. I have an unrelated AppleRadio one-shot I want to bust out before I work on the next installment, and that one I'm going to try and post by Thursday or Friday.

To quote out favorite Radio Demon,

~Stay Tuned

#thank you so much for this ask :3 #waking up to it was truly heart warming #and I'm glad you have such an investment in my fics <3 #makes my heart swell with all the emotions #the more I've been thinking about my “Just Kiss Already” series the more its been growing legs and walking #I have a lot planned #I need SOMETHING to carry me until season 2 drops LOL #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #the radio demon #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #appleradio #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #asks #my writing #twosouls77

[hyperactive-cowboy]

Ok so I've never posted nor let someone else read any of my stories, so this is a little of a bet with myself but the christmas vibe in me is really strong this year, plus I started to hardly ship those two lately, so here we go.

I'd like you to let me know if there are any mistakes or if it sucks but don't be too harsh loves i'm not a native english speaker. Also the other two chapters (if I'll still be in the vibe) will surely be released before 2024. ENJOYYY

I just wanna see my baby standing right outside my door

Warnings: just fluff and angst

Ship: F1 involved!Lando Norris × not F1 involved!Oscar Piastri (established relationship)

Wc: 3.3k

Chapter: 1, 2, 3

Summary: AU where Lando is away and Oscar misses him while he prepares a christmas party to surprise his boyfriend, but someone other makes an even bigger surprise for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't the first time he woke up near a cold pillow and an empty space, he was used to it.

But still, every time he opened his eyes, surrounded by his smell, he wished to find him playing with his hair, smiling, even snoring. The only thing that mattered was that he was there.

Lando had flown away the week before to film some stupid Christmas videos for his stupid work in that stupid team.

Couldn't they film the videos while the season wasn't over yet? Absolutely no! They had to take him away from him the Christmas week.

Oscar turned around and crawled out of the bed, taking the jacket Lando used every winter morning to feel warmer. He almost never felt cold, but the familiar presence on his shoulders warmed his heart. And also he wasn't ready to leave behind the smell of chocolate and cinnamon Lando's pillow had.

He took his phone and unlocked it to see the notifications: two were from Lando (his usual "good morning" with one of his smile's pic and a big red heart), three were from Logan (who asked him if they could meet up for launch to organize the christmas party they have been talking about for a few months) and one from his boss (asking him if he could do an exchange of shifts on thursday).

Oscar answered first his boss with a "yes", and then a "yes" to Logan, for last answered his boyfriend with a "morning love❤️".

Oscar decided it was the moment to be productive, so he did breakfast and then got washed. He took a notepad and a blue pen, starting to write down some ideas for later.

After some time of brainstorming, he took his phone again and texted Lando to know if he could call him in the next few minutes.

As an answer, his phone immediately started to ring with the special ringtone he had set for when his boyfriend called him.

"Hey" as Oscar heard that stupidly sweet voice he started smiling.

"Hey"

Awkward silence

"Hi" Lando laughed.

"Hi. How is it going?"

"Everything's okay. We should film the last bit this noon, then the editing and last the return trip, and then i'll be home again" 

There was a background noise, but Oscar didn't mind it.

"So you think you'll be home tomorrow afternoon?"

"Ehm… no actually I don't think I'll see you at least until friday"

"Friday??" Oscar was shocked. Usually Lando was away for not even a whole week. This time they would've taken him away for nine days. Another four days before touching his soft curls and hug him. 

Oscar snorted and Lando laughed softly.

"I swear it won't feel this long. I lov-"

"Lando?" 

No answers

"Hey are you there?" 

Again no sounds from his phone. 

He hung up and sent a message to Lando asking him what happened.

Oscar turned off his phone and looked at the clock on the wall in front of him. 

He had to hurry. He was late. He was never late and the few times he had been it was all Lando's fault. Well, this time could also be considered Lando's fault. 

His cell lit up for a new notification but Oscar was too busy getting ready to notice it.

He took the phone, the keys and the paper sheet with the party's ideas and rushed out of his house to lock it.

Once in the car, Oscar acknowledged the way he was dressed: a simple pair of gray sweatpants and one of Lando's hoodies. He sighed but then left out a soft laugh: this was one of the reasons why he loved having a boyfriend who wore the same size as him, having a double closet.

"You are late" is the first thing Logan says to his life-long friend

"Hey it's a pleasure to see you too"

"I've been waiting for you for the past twenty minutes" Logan opens his eyes wide to confirm his statement.

"Hey slow down I already have some ideas" 

Oscar grabbed the sheet and exposed all his ideas to his friend. 

They should've only launched together but the meeting lasted until half past four. 

They had everything ready. Now they only needed to call their friends to invite them over.

Only after coming back home, he read Lando's text: sorry the line went dead, call me again when you can ❤ ️.

Of course Lando knew he was busy with this party organization thing, so he would've waited for him.

Oscar couldn't call him that exact moment, so he decided that the second he walked through his house's door he would've written a note on his fridge to remind himself to call his boyfriend as fast as possible.

If his calculus were correct, Lando would've landed at the airport two days after the party, the 23rd of the month. Just right in time with the Christmas celebration at his parent's.

He was mentally destroyed by the fact that Lando wouldn't have been with him at the party, but it has already been postponed enough. 

Passing by the fridge not giving it even a look, Oscar selected the first person he was sure he wanted at the party.

Well, if he couldn't have his boyfriend there, he would at least have his boyfriend's best friend.

"Hey Osc, long time no see" he hears Max's voice through the phone as brilliant as in real life.

"Yeah it has been a tough period. We were planning a christmas party at our place on wednesday, are you in?" Oscar asks directly, he has a lot of people to call and a little time to do it.

"But isn't Lando away?" 

"Yeah, we wanted to do this thing together, but then he was called away and we can't postpone it anymore" 

Max lightly giggled. Oscar couldn't tell why, but he imagined it was because of something that was happening there.

"Yeah I think I'll be there" 

"K, thanks mate. And you can come with who you want" 

"Great, thanks. Bye"

After Max hung up, Oscar called a lot of the other members of the grid and some other friends, giving them the same instruction as he did before. He didn't mind calling Charles though 'cause he knew he would've come with Max (Verstappen).

When he controlled the clock for the 100th time, it was too late to have a snack, so he decided to start preparing dinner.

He was also used to cooking. Lando wasn't a total mess at it, but a little gremlin menace yes.

He took out of the freezer a couple of vegan burgers and some strange vegetable his mum was obsessed with (which he didn't remember the name of).

Closing the freezer, he got up. His sight arrived perfectly at the same height as the note he had taken before, but totally forgot about.

Oscar took a pan for the burgers and a pot for the vegetables so fast he was about to fall into the drawer. Started cooking his dinner and rushed out of the kitchen to call Lando.

"Honey I'm so so sorry I didn't call you earlier, I know it's late where you are now. You were probably asleep and I woke you up but I got so invested in this damn thing I even forgot to have a snack mid invites"

"Woah slow down there Flash. No worries, here's just two hours later than there, I just got back to my room" Lando laughed. 

Oscar sighed in relief. Lando was already under enough stress, he didn't want to add to that by interrupting his sleep schedule. Although he knew his boyfriend wasn't picky when it came to places to sleep.

"Oh okay sorry. Didn't want to upset you"

"No way. You could never"

Even if Lando couldn't see him, Oscar blushed. Maybe it was a good thing Lando wasn't there with him.

"Oh thanks then. Anyway I called everybody who was on the list and got everything ready" 

"Well done, did everybody confirm?" 

"Mm…" Oscar checked his notes and answered with a "nope", popping the "p".

"Pierre and Daniel are not sure, but everybody else will be here" Oscar explained.

"Good. Even Max said yes?"

"Don't know which one you are asking about but yes, both of them said so" 

For the nth time that day Oscar felt dumb not knowing the reason for some things that happened to him (ex. Max laughing at him on the phone) and felt even dumber thinking about those things. Of course people had their own lives beside him.

He was pretty sure it was the loneliness speaking in his mind. Still he decided to give an answer to one of those questions

"Lando, why did the line die like that before? It looked like you entered some galleries" he asked to test the waters. 

"Uhm… Yeah actually there was a black out, so I think it was its fault" 

"Oh okay, sorry" Oscar felt even more stupider now. 

"I just wanted to hear your voice" he admitted.

"Hey baby I miss you too" Lando whispered to him.

That sentence melted his heart. He was literally dying to see his boyfriend again, and couldn't wait for Friday to arrive.

The day had arrived.

That early morning he and Logan had met to prepare his house and give him the keys, given the fact that from 10am to 4pm he would have been at work.

Max had insisted on helping them out and insidied into his house nearly earlier than his best friend.

"Don't worry. This will be the best party you've ever been to" Max assured him.

"Do I have to remind you this is MY house? Maybe I should be the one preparing it"

"We will be better than you, trust me" Logan entered the conversation.

He and Max weren't even that close, but still they were playing against him as a team.

"Okay then. Just don't burn down my home please. I would like it to be still in one piece when I come back" and with this sentence he left his house, shaking a little, in the hands of two feral menaces. 

One part of him was even glad for them because he didn't think he would have made it to the night if he had to do everything by himself.

Oscar wrapped the christmas-themed scarf around his neck and prayed to every deity to let him have a peaceful day. 

When Oscar got in the elevator that took him to his house he could already hear the last notes of "Santa tell me" and was almost relieved to have the certainty that the apartment was the same as how he left it. Just with some more decorations, music and lights.

Oscar slowly opened the door, being scared of something jumping on him, but instead got nearly blinded.

His two friends didn't prepare anything to scare him, but they did put up a whole lot of multicolored led lights on his ceiling.

Every piece of furniture was embellished by red, green or white christmas balls and fancy ribbons. Even the rug in his living room has changed from a neutral striped one to a "light up says one christmas tree to another". The joke wasn't even funny, but still it made him smile. They had maneged to even find a piece of mistletoe to hang under the door.

And as if he couldn't be more shocked than that, when Oscar entered his kitchen he was surprised by an extended variety of food, from olives and other snacks to a delicious-looking cake, from a not-cooked-yet roast to at least a hundred chocolate cookies with gingerbread man drawn on them.

Even more shocking was the sight of Max with a Santa stiled apron and cookie dough all over his face, while Logan was singing "Last Christmas" not getting even one note.

"What in the world you two" Oscar exclaimed.

The two friends fastly turned towards him. They hadn't heard him coming in and were a little scared at first by that reaction. 

Logan and Max looked at each other not knowing what was happening, and the american instinctively stood up in front of his new friend to try and protect him. 

Oscar jumped on Max and Logan, but not to hurt him. He really wanted to give them a hug. So he did.

It felt strange for him to hug someone who wasn't his parents or his sisters. Even when it was Lando doing it, it felt weird the first times (and still did a bit, to be fair).

"Thank you for everything" Oscar said when he felt his friends get comfortable in his arms.

"That's no problem mate, really" Max replied.

Oscar was on the verge of tears. For him this act mattered more than a thousand words.

Not knowing what to say, he just squeezed his friends even more.

The last guest had arrived. At the end, neither of the hypothetical two more guests could come.

Pierre had already flown away to France to spend the holidays with his family and Danny was spending his first Christmas with his girlfriend's parents (he was so nervous when he gave Oscar an answer).

The party was being wonderful until then. 

Everything was at their place, all the people that mattered to him (to them) were there, all the food were cooked and ready, the music was loud but joyful and even the smell was fantastic: chocolate and gingerbread. Even Charles -in that ugly jumper- was there, he came with Max (Verstappen), like Oscar thought. So Christmas coded. Perfect.

There was just one thing missing: him. Lando. 

Oscar thought about sending him a video or a picture, but then looked at the watch on his wrist. It was 10PM. Too late to try. The next day Lando would've started his return to home and he needed to be ready and rested for that.

He'd have just taken some pics and videos and sent them to Lando the next day.

Oscar decided it wasn't the right time to get sad and that he could have cried about it later that night, maybe with a mug filled with hot chocolate or a big bottle of gin. 

He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans and started chatting with Liam and some other friends from F2 and F3.

Oscar was suspicious of Max. He was surely going to do something crazy in some way. It was at least the eleventh time he had gone to the kitchen that night without a reason -all the food was in the living room and they had also bought a mini fridge and wrapped a big red ribbon around it just so they DIDN'T have to always go to the kitchen to take the drinks.

Oscar followed his friend and peeked from outside the door and saw Max giggling and jumping like a schoolgirl while he was texting someone on his phone.

Like literally. He was coordinating little jumps on the spot and moving his arms. 

He was so stunned by the scene before him he didn't even realize his friend wasn't watching the phone anymore. 

"Hey man no one ever told you to not overhear?" Max scolded him with a strange look on his face.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to-" his friend had closed the door in front of his face. HIS door of HIS kitchen in front of HIS face. And didn't even stutter. Because he was distracted by Max acting like some teen.

If possible, Oscar was even more astonished.

He turned around still with his mouth a little open. He headed to the drinks table and took the one which looked the most alcoholic.

If he couldn't have neither his boyfriend nor his house for his own, at least he would've gotten drunk. 

He surely got drunk.

That one drink was followed by many others, every single one with a different color and taste. Some more alcoholic than others.

Oscar wanted to find someone to get absolutely wasted with. Someone like one of his oldest friends. Someone like Logan.

In fact, Oscar hadn't seen Logan for a while now. 

He stood up from the armchair he had fallen into earlier and all the room around him started to rotate, "Jingle bell rock" in the speakers more powerful than ever.

He took just one step, then he felt like he was flying. Oscar didn't know how it happened but a moment later he was faceplanted in the sofa cushion.

"Mate what the-" Oscar heard a familiar voice and then two hands took him by his arms and helped him get up.

A blond lock of hair shone in Oscar's face and finally the voice and hands had also a face and a name. 

"Ehy, what are you doing?" Logan sounded worried. Why was he worried? Oscar really couldn't tell. Everything was going the right way. 

"It's going to be a mess" Logan looked from his right to his left and then did it again, trying to find a solution to a problem Oscar didn't even understand.

"'m kay. No worries jus lemme sit" he didn't even have the time to bend, he immediately felt transported towards the exit of the room.

"C'mon I'm helping you get ready, you shouldn't resist so much" Logan dragged him into the bathroom and opened the tap.

He stood Oscar up "I'm sorry mate" Logan said just before pushing his head right under the coldest water he had ever felt on his body.

Suddenly Oscar's irises contracted and his brain resumed part of his normal functions. He pushed away from the sink but instantly had to bow on the toilet.

When he got up and watched himself in the mirror, he was sure he had never looked this bad. His longer-than-usual hair was glued to his forehead, his skin glowed with sweat and water, half of his shirt was covered in vomit while the other one was soaked with alcohol. 

Oscar thanked his best friend and opened the door, heading to the living room murmuring about needing to kick out all those people.

"No no no mate, what are you doing? We need to change your clothes and get read-" Logan talked so fastly he nearly stumbled on his words, taking Oscar by his arm and trying to move him towards the closet in his bedroom. 

"Nope, I'm ending this party in ten minutes, you can stay if you want but everybody else needs to exit now. I'm not in the conditions to continue this" 

"But- but you can't" Logan sounded desperate. "Okay well you can, just- just change your shirt. This one is so dirty I can't even look at it"

Oscar took another look at himself and had to admit his friend was right. 

A clean and fragrant white shirt later, Oscar was entering his living room with the intention of guiding everybody out of his house. 

One step in the room, the sound of his doorbell rang in the air. 

Max Fewtrell ran out of the kitchen (why was he still in there?) with a crazy smile.

"My guest must've arrived" he announced directly to Oscar, inviting him to open the door.

His guest? Oh yeah the one Oscar had told him he could take with himself. But why would someone arrive this late to a party? He had no idea, but still he went to the door, opening it without even looking who was ringing through the peephole.

Oscar was drunk. Wasted even. It was surely an image created by his flooded brain to make fun of him, but when he looked around to see if anyone else could see his vision, he was hit by a hundred flash lights.

So it wasn't just his imagination.

Lando. His boyfriend. Was really on one knee in front of him, out of his door.

#f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri #lando norris #max fewtrell #logan sargeant #landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #landoscar fic #oscar piastrixlando norris #f1 fluff #f1 angst

[moss-bride]

The lie of human kindness

Ren Hana x fem artist reader

1/3 chapters

She's covered in paint and hates the crusted splashes it left on her skin.

The garage her neighbors so kindly allowed her to use is a bit tight but she can't complain. This is the first time she's had a space outside her bedroom.

No. Not when there are so many artists out there that empty the living room of their dingy apartments to make their works.

She needs to make a trip to the hardware store to buy paint thinner and rounded tip brushes. She writes down her supplies on a notepad when her phone rings, the screen flashes to that familiar name. It causes a burst of nervous enthusiasm

to her most constant buyer.

She answers. "Mr Fox! What did you think of the photos I emailed you? Would you like to change anything? I'm finished with the base so by this Thursday will be your last chance to make edits." she's babbling. Something that happens often in their conversations

"No, it's coming out perfectly! " the smooth voice replies. He continually has nothing but compliments for her work. It makes her a little worried he's too afraid to give her criticism. 

Which is silly because a person wouldn't spend as much as he did on a work that isn't perfect. Right? 

In her doubt, she almost doesn't hear his next words. "I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me to a gala."

"Me?" she's speechless for a moment. Unsure of what to say. "I…" The schedule in her notepad is empty as it's been since first started. Between work and … Work, time for clubbing is rare and she finds she hates the loud noise of clubs unlike some women her age.

She doesn't have to flip the page to know her time slot is open. Yet she hesitates. Having one on one time with Mr. Fox as his partner at a party with people she doesn't know is a daunting thing to consider.

"I'd love to go, Mr Fox but I don't exactly have proper clothes for a fancy party."

"I'll send you some!" he chirps. Ever the supportive fan. There goes her one reason. He often reminded her of a favorite uncle

She's honored that he would consider her so promising at her craft that he would show her off to acquaintances. Reminds herself that these are rich friends that could potentially commission and buy. 

This is an amazing opportunity to network. She shouldn't be so wary! nonetheless, her heart frets in her chest. She chews her lip. "I don't know if I'm comfortable being in your debt like that."

"Don't sweat it. Consider it an investment for how big a splash I envision you'll make for the scene." 

The easy grin of his is palpable through the phone.

he's always talking about culture, movements, and postmodernism. "Just knowing I'll be part of fostering such an artist is enough." she knew he would say something like that.

She doesn't know how to respond. Another thing that happens frequently between the two of them. Her eyes stare out the garage window. "I-"

Mr. Fox refuses to take the beginning of her stuttered refusal. "Perfect! I'll send someone to pick you up. Bye-bye." The tone rings and she's staring at the ended phone call in shock.

She shouldn't be upset with Mr. Fox,  oftentimes he was the lone benefactor to her works and he's a kind man. There's no malice to his intentions, in fact, he's looking out for her by doing this.

Yes, there are skeevy men, people in general, in the art world that take advantage of others. She has heard of their predatory moves from forums and community posts. 

But Mr. Fox was not one of them. She is fortunate to have met him so early in her career. An enthusiastic client is hard to come by.

 

On the day of the gala, a black expensive model car is sent to wait for her on the street, while she is climbing down the stairs, embarrassed to sit on the spotless leather seats inside. Neighbors gawk as she climbs in with her plain day clothes. Some wave as she leaves.

The ride to Mr. Fox's home is long. Perfect to recite her manners.

She printed out business cards and brought her satchel, a big green bag full of 'sketches' (finished works made to seem effortless), and her necessities. Keys, wallet, wipes for her glasses, and chapstick. She rustles through the items to make sure she has everything before the car starts driving.

Slowly she watches the apartments become brighter, luxury apartments, then comes a bit of suburbia, then the gated ones, the big mansions with obnoxious features and long driveways. 

These people love their privacy.

When they arrive she's almost asleep, forehead pressed against the window. The driver wakes her. 

The front of his home is as beautiful as she imagined. Not the ugly McMansions that she saw on the way but an elegant building with manicured trees and a welcoming structure. Not too showy and with the right amount of architecture to give taste. 

Clutching her bag protectively over herself she gathers her courage and follows the butler.

There are people in uniform doing chores around the place. Maids and servers that work for him. Gosh, even their professional uniforms make her feel underdressed. They scurry to put together any final preparations for the party. White tablecloths are set

No one's here yet. She might be a little earlier than expected.

When Mr Fox emerges from the upper doorway she breathes a sigh of relief and allows her shoulders to lax. He calls her name and warmly greets her. A smile displaying his sharp canine. "Ready for the big day?"

She gives a shaky confirmation in an attempt to appear confident but he sees through it and chuckles. Clasping a hand on her shoulder as they walk into one of the wings.

"You can get dressed here."

She looks around the well-furnished room. There's a bathroom connected to the far side. A spacious bed and draped on top, wrapped in plastic must be her dress.

"I'll be out in a minute."

He makes no motion to leave, she thinks that he is scanning her body from top to bottom. It makes her face heat.

She laughs. "I'm fine Mr Fox, you can go now."

He stands there for a moment then clears his throat and adjusts his tie. "Of course!"

He's about to shut the door when he pauses and motions her close. "Before I leave…." He snatched the lenses off her face. "You won't be needing these."

"My glasses?" she's unsure about him taking them. Everything is blurry, her eyesight is poor, barely above the legal limit to be considered blind.

He sighs. "There. Much better."

"I don't have contacts on…" but he already shut the door. A small click sounds. She should call him back and ask for them more firmly…. 

Instead, she lets the issue go. Later she'll explain how important they are and ask for them back.

The dress that Mr. Fox had handed her feels airy. Light as a feather and lacking the weight of material. She takes a bit of it in her hand and squints to her best ability trying to test if it's see-through. But that's just her right? It must be the draft. It is a bit cold.

Underwear 

Oh gosh. He really considered everything for this night. Mr Fox is nothing if not thorough but She doesn't need it. Her own underwear will be fine. And this level of planning is a bit unsettling.

she notices how delicate the garments are. Expensive. Did he put a lot of thought into her underwear?! She shakes that thought away. Feeling ashamed for associating it as creepy.

Slipping the dress over her head she struggles for it to settle around her chest.

The dress doesn't fit with the padding of her bra. She should have worn a strapless adhesive for tonight instead of a pushup. 

With much consideration she forgoes the bra since the gown is long and flowing, It should cover everything. There's a shawl to go along with the outfit and she's insanely grateful.

Next, she turns to the vanity. Huffing an exasperated breath at her smudged image. 

Everything's so smeared. Edges bleed into each other. 

On the desk, there are blobs of what must be a hairbrush and makeup. All new and unused. She does her best in thirty minutes and is blind as a bat. Utilizing muscle memory to do most of the work. She chooses to leave her hair down instead of clipped back from her face as it usually is when working. 

With that the effect is nerve-wracking. She feels like an entirely different person. A real Cinderella moment.

A knock sounds and they announce that people have begun to arrive.

"I'll be out in a minute!" she can't see the result. She'll trust Mr. Fox to inform her if her makeup is uneven.

Deep breaths. The lightness of the material makes her anxious again. However, they are waiting for her outside. She can't disappoint.

She slides into the heels and opens the door. Peeking out the hall. "Mr. Fox?"

No sign of the slight redhead. Instead, his bodyguards stand outside. Two of them as a unit. One is a big bald man to the left and a shorter, blond to the right. Hard lines of straight shoulders with no-nonsense

She smiles at them. "Nice to meet you."

They offer polite greetings but little else. She learns their names are Rhino and Roo. They sound like fake names, silly nicknames likely, but she doesn't want to make them uncomfortable by asking for real names. 

They have been so nice in guiding her.

The cool wind brushes her legs as she walks down the stairs, sliding her hand on the wood railing. It's like a scene from a movie!

She hears him before she can see him. At the bottom of the stairs waiting for her to descend.

His words make her feel naked. There's an underlying heat to them. "You look ravishing." her heart hammers at the thought of what his expression looks like now. Maybe it's a good thing she can't see because his face would leave her a stuttering mess.

"It's a beautiful dress." she bashfully gazes at a corner. The heels add height to her, making him four inches shorter but she never minded being taller. She stays at his side, enjoying the smell of his cologne. He's so warm. "You're very handsome yourself ." His suit is a deep burgundy with black accents. Lapels clean cut and hugging the waist.

Fox's voice resonates with a playfulness she hasn't had the pleasure of noticing before. "Are you flirting with me?"

She rears her head back and says, embarrassed. "Of course not. I don't mix business with pleasure." He chuckles at that.

He wants to be the exception.

A guest comes up to them with a steady tap of no doubt expensive shoes. "Fox, who is this gorgeous lady you are keeping to yourself?"

Mr. Fox introduces them. " She's the creator of paintings you see on my walls."

This man is blond with deeply tanned skin. If she had to guess he's a corporate type. "Fox here talks quite a bit about your talents."

The older man grins over the rim of a glass as she shoots him a look. He's all 'I told you so.' 

Her art unnerved most people and to discuss it so openly 

Human suffering plain to the eye. They only see that pain. Not the beauty in their panicked stares. White straining, turning pink with shocks of red worms until they become bloodshot. 

She paints that freedom. A study of human anatomy to remind everyone what they are. What will come.

Death is her inspiration, there is beauty in the midst of suffering angelic or from hell.

"Deserved flattery. Your images are visceral. Gut-wrenching." god the flattened is too much, she could get used to being complimented. "I did not expect such a sweet lady would be behind this gruesome work."

She laughed. "Never judge a book by its cover."

Talks and talks about a variety of things that go on in her life, and acts amazed at the news of his vacation to Jamaica. Then other guests join their conversation. Mr Fox is marching her from one acquaintance to the next and she knows she should be writing down names and information. Telling when she's open to commissions. Yet, all she could register is Mr. Fox beside her and his chuckling puffs when she says something funny.

She tries her best to be funny to hear it again and again.

An endless stream of beautiful guests that are interested in her work and admire it is refreshing to be around. The shame and secrecy of having to skip around the subject of her art gets tiring 

Hiding her muse is tiring, Death and the human form is the subject of her imagining and here they are celebrated.

When the evening is getting late he walks her to a patio, brushing past breezy curtains of red. The cool wind is a godsend on her hair.

He hands her a glass of wine and cups his own elegantly. He's so at home among the fortune and excess. She wishes at that moment for her phone, the way he looks is a divine masculine aura. He could be on the cover of a men's magazine.

"To our partnership."

She takes the offered cup and sips. Smiling softly at him as the burst of flavorful red wine spreads on her tongue.

He's gazing at her in the dark, illuminated by the orange glow of the light from one side and the soft pale of the moon on the other. "What is it?" 

His eyes must be keener than hers to see in the shadowy night. Does he notice her flushed shoulders and nervous tick? She's woozy from the drink already.

"I'm lucky to have met you, Mr. Fox." She tucks a strand behind her ear and is about to do the same to her other ear when she feels the warm pad of his thumb tuck it for her.

A polished claw gently scrapes her scalp.

Even with her blurry vision, the flaming orange flicker to his eyes catches her own. She tilts her head into the touch.

"My family and friends think what I draw is terrible. Satanic and devil worshiping, even." she gives a sardonic laugh. "I couldn't ever show them my sketchbook. No one wants to order family portraits from a gore artist. I didn't have anyone. But you…and the people here …understand."

Her admission gets her a sharp glimpse of teeth. A pearly fang. "Horror and shock are things to be celebrated, people scare easily on such subjects."

She's breathless as his nail slides against her brow. 'Exactly." 

She tries to take a step to him and she stumbles in the heels. Falling forward. His grip tightens on her arm. Without it, she would have face-planted. She laughs. "I don't feel very stable." without another thought she shucks them off, her bare feet flat on the floor.

"It's alright." he supports her with a surprising amount of strength. She wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face into his neck. Without her heels, she's back to being two inches taller than him. Chest to chest. 

She doesn't know she is being drugged. He can feel her pebbled breasts

"What happened to not mixing business with pleasure?" it's a husky whisper

She leans into his palm and closes her eyes. "You're not business. You're my friend." her only friend in this city. Her arms pull him closer for a hug. She pours her gratitude into her grasping arms, squeezing hard. Her friend…Who supports her and makes her feel appreciated.

It's easy to kiss him. She's intoxicated and forgetful of how intimidating his aura can be. The pit of nervous butterflies that she gets at meeting his eyes is gone, replaced by her need to share how much she feels for him. Laying three pecks on his lips after. The tenderness of each peck overwhelms him.

He's unresponsive. Horrified, she attempts to step away, about to utter an apology. Yet his hands refuse to let her go.

"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable," she says in a sudden moment of shame.

"Shh. Let's get you home." he tightens his jacket at her neck. It's laughable really, her shoulders are a bit ticker and it fits over almost like a shawl. 

"I want to stay with you," she mumbles against his skin. She kisses him again and this time he opens his mouth. With the first touch of tongues, she made a sound filled with need.

His breath is ragged and hot on her bruised lips.

"That's not a good idea…"

He's struggling with a decision she's not privy to. Muttering silent words in displeasure, smoothing his hair down with a right hand. She tries to hear what he's saying but her wine-drunk brain can't zero in on his meaning. Is he alright?

"Please, Fox." She both does and doesn't know what she's asking for

He pushes her away and she tumbles into the arms of Roo. For a slight figure, he has surprising strength.

She wants to dive back into his arms but the blond holds her still. Mr. Fox turns away. A growl threatened his words. "Go home."

#ao3 fanfic #x reader #fanfic #the price of flesh #ren hana #dead dove fic

[kfinalgirls]

Scream

༊*·˚Admin Lulu Presents~ ༊*·˚Pairing: Choi San x Lulu (OC) 1st pov x Park Seonghwa ༊*·˚Genre/Trope/Au: smut, horror, established relationship, scream au, college au ༊*·˚Rating: R rated, +18 MDNI ༊*·˚Warnings: mentions blood, gore, death, knives, violence (smut will be included in future chapters) ༊*·˚Kinks: fear kink, penetrative sex with no barrier ༊*·˚Word Count: 1,567 ༊*·˚Credits to @kitsunecafe for the divider ༊*·˚Synopsis: When a killer begins to target students of my college--and also starts calling me to brag about it--San is there to comfort me. But throw in his creepy best friend and my world begins to crumble around me ༊*·˚ All Posts ||| Part Two

It was Thursday night, movie night for San and I. Or it was supposed to be movie night. San currently had his head buried in my neck, sneakily placing light kisses and the occasional kitten lick.

"San," I sighed, "I thought we were watching movies."

"We are," he said without missing a beat, "You know the teenagers always get horny within the opening scene. I'm not missing anything." San took the opportunity to suck a love bite and I moaned.

"No, no!" I said, pushing San off of me, "I want to watch this movie. Go make us popcorn if you're bored."

San sent me a hurt look but nonetheless got up gracefully to make his way to my kitchen. I settled back into the couch, curling into the warmth that San left on the cushions and focused on the movie. 

Or I tried to. Next I got a message on my phone. I ignored it and then I got a phone call. I frowned because it wasn't a number I recognized. I ignored it and expected a voice-mail for later if it was important. Except my phone rang again. What the hell?

I answered it angrily, "Hello?!"

"Hello, beautiful," an odd voice addressed me.

Nah, who was this creep? "Who is this, why are you calling me?"

"I just wanted to hear your sweet voice. Are you enjoying your movie?"

I stiffened. How the hell did anyone know that I was watching a movie with San? "No, I'm not enjoying it because you so rudely interrupted me."

"Come on, Lulu, don't be like that! You should have let San make out with you. We all know you get horny too, during those scenes.”

I got off the couch and moved to the window of my apartment. I looked out but couldn't see if anyone was spying on me from the other buildings across the street. Weird. I began to close the curtains just in case. “Look, if this is Wooyoung, this isn't funny. This breaks some kind of law and I’m sure--”

The voice on the other side of the phone laughed at me. “Wooyoung isn’t smart enough to figure out how to spy on you. Come on, you can do better than that.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “San?” 

The voice sounded amused at my guess. “Oh no, your boyfriend is currently making you popcorn, remember? He’s quite dedicated to you. Just like I am. Go on, check.”

I peeked around the corner and indeed, San was making popcorn. He was on his phone with his lower back pressed against the counter as the microwave hummed. I moved further back into the living room, hissing into my phone, “Why are you doing this?”

“Scary movies make you horny. San knows this. I know this. Why do you think he gave up sucking on your neck to make popcorn. He wants to hand feed it to you. And if his fingers so happen to slip into your mouth, you know how good you are at sucking on them.”

For some fucked up reason, my breathing started to quicken. I was getting turned on in this creepy situation. How did this caller know so much about my quirks? “Listen, this isn’t funny. Don’t call me back.” I hung up and then put my phone down like it was possessed. Of course the phone rang and rang and rang. I wasn’t going to play this game. 

Except for San’s prompting from the kitchen. “Babe, your phone is ringing! Pick it up before it drives me insane!”

I picked it up shakily and answered the phone. “What?” I couldn't help but say petulantly. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Lulu!” The voice cooed sickly-sweet into my ear, “Don’t you like being scared? Aren’t your panties wet right now? What if I were to tell you that I’m killing someone as we speak? Would that get you hot? Would you touch yourself for me while San is in the kitchen making you popcorn and hoping you’ll let him fuck you on your couch?”

I couldn't help the whine that I let out and squeezed my thighs together. “Don’t.”

“This girl’s blood surely isn’t as pretty as yours. She didn’t understand my artistry like you would.” The caller paused and I could hear some obscene sucking noises, “Bet her blood doesn’t taste as good as yours would.”

I hung up the phone quickly as San came into the living room. “Who was that?” San asked absentmindedly. I rushed to the couch and tucked myself into San’s side. San looked at me in concern. “Babe, you’re shaking, what’s wrong?”

“I got a creepy call,” I whispered. Was he watching right now? Was he angry I hung up on him?

San put his arm around me and rubbed my shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m with you. Who would dare try to hurt you with me here? I’d murder them,” San reassured me. “Come on, eat some popcorn with me and let’s watch the movie.”

San unpaused the movie and started to feed me popcorn, not letting me touch the bowl. I could hear as the couple that had been fucking in the woods screamed as the killer came upon them. San’s eyes weren’t on the screen, however. He was watching as I put my tongue out to catch the popcorn and bring it into my mouth. “You’re so hot,” San murmured, his face so close I could feel his breath on my face.

I pouted, still part turned on, part upset that the caller and my boyfriend knew things about me that weren’t right. “San.”

San grinned at me, slow and knowing. “I won’t tell anyone we fuck while we watch scary movies.”

“I’m so wet right now,” I whimpered and surged forward to kiss San’s lips.

I’m embarrassed to say that we did indeed fuck on my couch while the scary movie played in the background completely forgotten. Once San sunk so deep into me with one leg tossed over his shoulder, I didn’t recall the creepy call or what was happening on the movie screen. I was too busy with my fingers threaded through San’s hair, making out while he fucked me slowly to pay attention to the screams or the notifications on my phone about emails from the university…

The next day San and I took the train together to university. San didn’t have classes today but he always liked to tag along to mine. “This way I can sleep through a class and not get yelled at,” He grinned mischievously at me.

We walked from the train station to the quad, San’s arm around my waist and keeping me close. Normally his skinship borderlined possessive but today I sucked it all in. That fucking phone call had shaken me to my core.

“HEY!” A loud voice from behind us scared the both of us, causing us to jump. I whirled around and found a pleased Wooyoung with his tongue in between his teeth. “Have you guys heard yet? About the dead girl?”

I felt all my blood leave my face, “Dead girl?” 

This girl’s blood surely isn’t as pretty as yours.

“Yeah!” Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically, “Apparently one of the students here was found last night, deader than a doornail.”

“What happened?” San asked curiously.

“They say it's manslaughter. They found her with her throat slit but that’s not even the worst part.” Wooyoung leaned in conspiratorially. “They found some serrated fingers stuffed into her mouth.”

And if his fingers so happen to slip into your mouth, you know how good you are at sucking on them.

I dropped my phone and then quickly picked it up off the ground. “Um, I really gotta get to class. There’s some questions I've been meaning to ask the professor. You can catch up to me later, San. Bye Woo.”

I almost jogged into the school and quickly found my Geology lab. No one was there yet and I let out a sigh of relief. I needed a few moments to collect myself. My breathing was erratic and my heart was beating out of my chest. What the actual fuck was going on???

I got a message on my phone and practically jumped out of my skin when the vibration came from my back pocket. I shakily opened it up and read what the message said.

{8:02am} Private Number: Open your purse. I left a gift there for you

I unslung my purse from around my body and unzipped it. I glanced inside and then felt myself get lightheaded. I dropped my purse and out rolled a pinky finger. I stuffed my hand into my mouth to muffle the sobs that were threatening to escape. 

My phone vibrated from onto the counter that I had left it on. I was in too deep now. I had to check it. 

{8:07am} Private Number: This is my pinky promise to you that I’ll see you soon. Get it? Pinky promise? 🤭

I grabbed the pinky finger with a plastic glove the professor had for handling precious rocks. I wrapped it up in it and put it back in my purse. I couldn't put it in the garbage, what if someone found it?

{8:10am} Private Number: See you soon 😘

I rushed to the garbage and threw up. Why was this happening to me???

༊*·˚ All Posts ||| Part Two

#ateez smut #choi san smut #kpop horror #oc x choi san #ateez scenarios #choi san scenarios #ateez horror #choi san horror #Admin Lulu presents #Scream: Sanhwa edition

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 4

The next morning, the sun starts to gently beam through the curtain-less windows. It was enough to wake me up from my deep sleep. Yesterday wore me out so good that I was able to go straight home from the saloon and fall right to sleep.

I get out of bed and do some morning stretches. Regardless of me going to the gym here and there, my muscles ache pretty bad. I look at my phone to see what time it is. It is about the only thing it's good for in this town.

"6 am?!" I shout.

I have never been up so early on my own. When I have to get up at this time, I usually have to set an alarm.

I reach into my bag to throw on the same set of overalls but a different shirt underneath. This time, it's a dark blue, plaid, long sleeve. I got to the bathroom and splash water on my face. I twist my hair into a loose braid once again, then head out to start working in the field. I make sure to grab the axe on my way out.

I start chopping away all the stray trees scattered in the field. Only the ones that will be in my way once I start planting seeds.

It wasn't long until I was interrupted by an unfamiliar, friendly voice, "Howdy, Mayor Lewis told me you arrived yesterday. I'm Marnie!"

When I turn around, I find a short, plump, older lady approaching me. Braids must be the style here because she is also rocking one.

"Hi Marnie! My name's Danny" I put down my axe to extend my hand out to her. She shakes it firmly.

"I sell livestock and animal care products at my ranch just down that path," Marnie turns to point, "You should swing by sometime. That is, once you get an area set up to put livestock. I'd also be happy if you happen to swing by just because, too."

I give her a friendly smile and nod my head, "Of course! I will try to stop by whenever I pass by."

Marnie returns the smile. "Anyways, If you ever need anything you know where I'm at! I'll let you get back to what you're doing. You seem to have a lot on your hands with this farm," She says as she begins her journey back down the path.

I go back to chopping the trees and clearing up more of the field to the best of my ability.

                                                  🌻 🌻 🌻

Unfortunately, chopping down the rest of the trees turned into a two day job. I didn't even leave the farm those two days. I got so wrapped up in clearing this place up. All I've been eating were the snacks I brought from home.

Those two days were short ones though because I kept going to bed pretty early. Removing the stumps of the trees was a pain. Chopping was the easy part.

However, today I decided I am going to Pierre's to get some groceries and since I finally have the place to my liking, I can get those seeds now. I never did end up doing them Monday.

When I pass by Harvey's clinic and look through the window. Seems pretty empty in there except for one guy with a fantastic mustache and glasses. I assume that'd be Harvey.

I stop to look at the bulletin board that's on Pierre's shop. I look at the calendar with everyone's birthdays on one side, and at the "Help Wanted" side. There doesn't seem to be anything posted there yet.

After continuing the rest of the way to the door of Pierre's store. I grab the handle and yank it. It doesn't open.

"Huh? That's weird. Maybe it's a push door?" I say to myself as I try pushing on the door. It doesn't budge.

I take a step back and scratch my head. I look at all the papers taped to the glass door and finally at the sign on the wall next to the door:

Monday: 9 am - 5 am

Tuesday: 9 am - 5 am

Closed on Wednesdays

Thursday: 9 am- 5 am

Friday: 9 am - 5 am

Saturday: 9 am- 5 am

Sunday: 9 am - 5 am

"Wait, what's today?" I look back at the calendar on the bulletin board.

"Of course it's Wednesday. When I actually need to get something it's closed."

Once, again I take a step back from the store and turn to look around at the town. I decide to go around the corner and up the stone steps. I turn left and I pass by the building Mayor Lewis told me was the Community Centre. I keep walking and find myself standing on one side of a water fountain. It's a pretty big one but I can just make out a playground located a few feet behind it.

I stand around the fountain and admire it for a bit. I stick my hand in the water and swish it around. Suddenly I find myself with both hands playing in the water. I get a little carried away until a familiar voice chimes in from the other side of the fountain

"What do you think you're doing?"

I quickly yank my hands back and out of the fountain. The person poked their head around the center of the fountain so I could see them. Out of everyone who could have caught me doing that it had to be Haley.

"I don't know... The water felt really nice on my hands. They've been pretty beat up the last few days," I hold my hands back out in front of me. I angled them downward so she could see how red and calloused they are. Not that she would care. I notice her face scrunch up in disgust. "I guess I just got carried away. What are you doing here?" I ask her.

"Not that it matters to you, but I tend to come here to think," she looks away from me and turns toward the town, "It's also a great spot to look over at the town and watch everyone go about their day."

Her expression seemed to softened as she looks towards the town.

"And what does a pretty girl like you have to think about?" I question her. I scoot a bit closer to where she is sitting on the edge of the fountain. She is definitely in a vulnerable mood so I decided to try and ease the tension between us.

From where I am sitting, it looked like her face went bright red. It could just be the lighting though. Or maybe I imagined it.

She quickly tucked her beautiful, blonde hair behind her ears and looked towards the other way. Within seconds, she looks back with a scowl and clears her throat to speak.

"It doesn't matter what I think about. I just think, okay?" She abruptly stands and hurriedly walks to the steps that go down the other side of the buildings. Near the path to get to my farm.

I nod my head and look down at my boot I guess I've been dragging around in the dirt the whole time. Suddenly, two little kids run past me with Penny lagging behind. The two kids stop dead in their tracks when they notice I am there.

"Oh, a stranger! My name's Vincent. Momma says not to talk to strangers," The boy in the striped t-shirt says, "but you seem okay."

"...Hi..." Whispers the girl in the purple dress with a cute bow on her head.

"That's Jas. She is a shy one. Until she gets to know you of course," Penny explains when she finally catches up to the kids. "We don't have a school here but I'm doing my best to give and a proper education. They are just super energetic today and won't sit still."

The kids start giggling and take off once again. Penny huffs and continues chasing after them.

I then decide it's about time to go back to the farm. The sun has begun to set, and it is starting to get dark. I notice time really flies in Pelican Town.

#sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew valley #stardew #stardew fanfic #stardew valley haley #stardew valley haley fanfic #haley fanfic #sdv haley fanfic #sdv haley #stardew haley #haley stardew #haley x female farmer #haley x farmer #wlw #sapphic #lgbtq

[klbwriting]

Not Romeo, Not Juliet

Chapter 12: Merely Players

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: the aftermath of the kidnapping and the start of competition day

Notes: one more chapter after this! Then there will be a sequel! I'm trying to think of a musical theater related title for it so if anyone has ideas let me know, I am stumped

Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch @amberpanda99

All the world's a stage, / And all the men and women merely players

— AS YOU LIKE IT, ACT 2 SCENE 7

Jason knew he couldn’t prove that one of the other seniors sent out the video of him and YN’s conversation, how did he know this? Because for the two weeks between YN’s kidnapping and the Shakespeare competition he tried. Dick had Barbara do a deep dive, but the video was posted to a social media site using a burner phone, a fake email address, and the phone was already destroyed. Even the IP address it came from was some random café where they conveniently didn’t have any security footage from the time that the video was posted. It was infuriating, but it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t still confront them over what happened.

After rehearsal the Thursday before the competition Jason walked over to them before they could run out like they had been. They looked at him, then at each other, then at him again. He didn’t say anything, letting the awkward silence string along, hoping one of them would break. Jackson folded first.

“How is YN?” he asked softly, an almost guilty look on his face. Jason folded his arms.

“She’s healing,” he answered. The silence drew out again and he let it, eyes moving from one of them to the next, trying to bare their souls with his currently green gaze.

“Are you sure she was actually even kidnapped? She was gone for like a night, what if she was just being dramatic? Or out with another guy?” Chelsea said. Jason’s glare shut her up, the other guys taking a step back. He took a deep breath and forced his fists to unclench.

“I got the phone call from her, I saw her face after the cops brought her home, she was not being dramatic,” he said, voice calm but they seemed to sense the danger in it.

“Well, whoever posted that video was right to do it, we should be aware of the kinds of people who are trying to win the competition,” Jackson said. “And the kinds of people who are trying to break into our society.”

“And what kind of people are you referring to?” Jason asked, gritting his teeth a little now. Jackson clearly wanted to be the tough guy right now. He glanced to where Sydney was watching the interaction, and he puffed his chest out some.

“Those from certain places, who don’t know how to act, those who don’t know how to belong,” he said. Jason nodded.

“So, someone like me?” Jason asked. Jackson shook his head.

“No, you were a Wayne, you are a part of our world, YN is not, she’s trying but she was never meant to be going to a place like Gotham Academy,” he said.

“You know I was born in Crime Alley, right? My dad was a degenerate gambler, my mother a drug addict. The only reason Bruce Wayne adopted me was because I tried to steal his tires and he took pity on me when I told him my sob story,” Jason said. This part of his history was always hidden from the public. Bruce had fed out that he was the son of some European friends of Bruce’s who had died in a private plane crash.

“Well, either way, you aren’t an embarrassment like she is,” Chelsea said. Now that they knew who his adoptive father really was they were trying to stay in his good graces like the lap dogs they were. It was disgusting. “Not only that she gossips about others and gets their opportunities taken from them because she’s jealous.”

“Are you talking about that stupid competition last year? Where the actress from here was sleeping with a judge to win and she just, told the truth?” Jason asked. Chelsea glared.

“She should keep her mouth shut,” she retorted.

“I have to pretend to be in love with you in two days and you are making that very difficult right now with your fucked up world view,” he said. Sydney walked over then, standing with Jason.

“YN is really nice you know, and she at least doesn’t seem the type who’s going to peak in high school like some people, don’t you think Jason?” she asked, turning to him. He chuckled a little as the three others wrinkled their noses in annoyance. Of all people to gang up on them the children of Wayne Enterprises and Arkham fame were not the ones you wanted. Even if Jason was pretty much disowned, not like Bruce didn’t know about him by now, he was still powerful in the eyes of the city.

“Maybe people should be nicer to her, if they want others to be nice to them,” he said, still staring at the three of them. They gathered their things, heading out together, heads close as they talked.

“They are seriously such a pain in the ass,” Sydney said. Jason nodded and turned to her. “Do you have any holiday break plans?”

“No, probably just staying home and recovering from this Shakespeare thing,” he said. She nodded.

“Maybe we could hang out,” she offered. “My family is going to Europe, and I’m really not interested this year.” Jason nodded slowly before shrugging.

“Maybe, but I’ll probably hang out a lot with YN, so we’ll see,” he answered. Sydney nodded and waved bye before heading out. Jason grabbed his things, heading home, glad he at least seemed to make a friend while he was at this school. Even if she was part of the Arkham family. Maybe she could get him in to see Joker sometime. His therapist would love that, reopening the traumatic wound of his death and all, but he couldn’t lie, taking a crowbar to the clown sounded really fun.

Saturday morning Jason woke up to a text from YN that just said, ‘you die today Hamlet’ to which he replied ‘so do you’ and he received ‘date night in hell?’ he answered ‘see you there’. He was still smiling as he sat at the table for what Dick promised to be a good breakfast. He plopped donuts from the shop down the street in front of Jason.

“Well, this is better than your cooking,” Jason said. Dick sighed.

“At least you’re in a good mood today,” he said. It had taken Jason over a week to even smile again after the incident with Falcone. Dick was pretty sure he knew what happened in that warehouse but neither Jason nor his doctor were telling him about it, so he just had to guess. He was conflicted about confronting Jason about the deaths, wanting him to feel comfortable talking to his brother, but maybe him reacting the way he did to YN had ruined his trust.

“Ya, I’m good today, gotta be good for the competition, you excited? Today you get to witness my death, although it is significantly less bloody than the first time,” Jason joked, and Dick couldn’t help but laugh. Jason fell quiet after a minute, picking up a chocolate donut that had the Batman symbol on it.

“Sorry about that one, it’s a special they’re running, goes in every box,” Dick said, hoping this didn’t sour Jason’s mood. Jason bit into it, chewing and swallowing.

“Did he ask about me?” he asked. Bruce had to know about him being back, probably also figured out Dick was lying about not knowing who Red Hood was. Did he care? Did he want to see Jason again? “No, he hasn’t asked,” Dick said softly. “I think he’s waiting for you to talk to him.”

“Of course, because I’m the parent, I’m the one who should be mending the relationship,” Jason muttered, tearing the donut in half.

“Why don’t you go get dressed? Maybe call YN, she seems to make everything better,” Dick suggested, standing to go get himself ready for the competition. Jason headed up to the loft, calling YN like Dick suggested.

“Hey Jay, can I talk to you after the competition?” she said as soon as she answered. Jason furrowed his brow.

“Ya, sure, is everything ok?” he asked, noticing she seemed out of breath.

“Yes, we just got word about something for my mom, its not bad, but we’re talking it through while I’m getting ready. I promise I’ll tell you about it after the competition,” she said.

“Ya, sure, I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, go actually break a leg, ok? I really want to win,” she said, making him laugh before hanging up. He sighed, getting into the bare bones of his costume. He would finish getting ready there. His mind wandered to what had happened for YN and her mother, he hoped that something good was happening, they all needed something good right now.

#jasontodd #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #redhood #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #notromeo

[iggydabirdkid]

Wip Wednesday (technically Thursday for me)

I was tagged by @goldfish-fhr thank you!

I'm not currently working on anything Fallen Hero related, writing wise as I just finished up the latest chapter for my Victorian AU (psst! here's a link! Victorian Era AU - Chapter 4: Buried Deep ) but I'll still post a little of my current Dragon Age Fic chapter!

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You are shaken from your thoughts when a round of laughter peppers against the fogginess of your mind. You shake your head and follow the joyous sounds and soon you find yourself standing outside where you know the mess hall to be. The door is ajar and you peek through the crack and you are able to make out the gaggle of soldiers surrounding a figure you can barely make out past the steel plates and pointed helms. You can hear him though. Voice having deepened a touch over the years but the joviality? The inflections in his words? They are just as you remember them to be.

There is a smile on your face as you push the door open and all turn to meet you as the laughter dies down and the crowd parts to reveal your old friend. Your first true friend. One you made that wasn’t of your blood.

It takes him a few moments longer to turn and see you standing there in the open doorway, a half-smile on his lips while the creases at the corners of his eyes deepen and you release a breath and a tension your didn’t know your body had been clinging to. Apprehension. Must have been. The last time you saw Alistair he had been short with his words you and you could not tell if he was simply taxed by the long journey he had taken to Vigil's Keep or if he still held resentment for you urging him along the path of royalty. You are glad that he now faces you with a smile.

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Also I lied. Here's a little on the next Selkie AU chapter.

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Her lips are the softest thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling upon your own yet there is still a primal part within you that tugs at the more animalistic nature of your being. It urges you to bite down not let go until you draw blood but those thoughts are banished as soon as they are formed as Julia’s hands round to the back of your head and her fingers glide through your hair, nails scraping up your scalp and sending shivers through you that ripple out across the water.

You want to be closer to her, to feel her breath upon your skin and so you part briefly to the sound of a short gasp as you trail your lips along her jawline. Her hands twist and pull your waves of muddy green and you retaliate by grazing a sharp tipped tooth along the pulse that lives just below her skin nestled beneath her jaw and she tilts her head back with a sigh, bearing the warmth and richness of her bronze-skin throat and all you want to do is bite.

#thanks for tagging me Fish!! #wip wednesday #but thursday

[dp-marvel94]

Face to Face- Chapter 54

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 7,517

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: Finally! The much awaited (for me at least XD) concert chapter! This is probably the most self indulgent thing I have ever written. 😅😳

Seriously though, I put so much time and thought into this love letter to my two favorite things: Danny Phantom and Christian rock. 😂 I hope ya'll enjoy it just a fraction of the amount I did writing it.

(And on a serious note. A warning for some minor religious references and discussion here- the name of Jesus in a reverent context, a character asks another if they would like to be prayed for. I wrote a very long post on Tumblr going to more detail on some of these and my reasons for including them. See the link in the end note.)

Excitement grew, buzzing in Danny’s chest as everyone piled into the GEV. Even Jazz.

The boy raised a brow at his sister. “I figured you’d wanna stay home and read about the psychology of troubled teens or something.”

The red-head rolled her eyes at the comment. She shook her head. “Spike is going. He’s really into the metal scene and I thought going myself might be informative.”

Dad glanced back. “Is that your boyfriend, Jazzirencess?”

Jazz blushed. “We’re just friends, Dad.”

The parents exchanged looks, saying nothing else on the topic. Instead the conversation shifted, back towards the subject of the concert.

“Danny, sweetie. Who are we seeing again?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Less than ten minutes later, the group arrived at the park. Dad pulled into a parking spot and turned the vehicle off. The teens were out almost before the van even stopped and practically run across the grass.

There was the stage, set up the field where Sam, Tucker, and his two halves had played frisbee golf on Thursday. Danny stopped a dozen feet away, just staring for a long moment. Not even four days ago he’d fought a dragon here. Signs of the struggle still mard the area: patches of dead grass, a few fallen trees, and –Danny winced at the sight– the destroyed bathrooms, bared off the caution tape. A row of Port-a-Potties has been set up in their stead.

The sound of a guitar broke through Danny’s thoughts. “Feels like I'm stuck. Going nowhere fast.” An older teenage girl was singing while playing. “My life is on the line. I'm running out of time.” The instrument suddenly cut off. Then her voice pitched down, speaking normally. “I’m gonna need more guitar in my ears.” A few more strums. “Perfect.” She glanced over at another teen, holding a bass. “Maggie?”

Beside Danny, Tucker leaned in, right next to his ear. “They’re sound checking!” The half ghost could practically hear the stars in his friend’s eyes. 

“We’re listening to GFM sound check!” Danny felt just as giddy.

More strumming instruments, banging on the drums, growling and yelling into the mic. “Mic check! One, two, three! Can you hear me?!” 

“Yeah!” Woah!” The few people already gathering in front of the stage yelled an affirmative.

“Sounds good, CJ.” The bassist backed up from the mic, leaving her instrument on a stand. “Let’s get dinner.”

“Pizza!” There was a cheer from the drum set.

The other two band members, all sisters if Danny remembered, left the stage, now empty of people. 

Sam tugged on her friends’ arms. “Let’s scope out merch.”

The three hurried over to the merch tables, the group clustered under a tent. First GFM’s merch table, all black and pink and green. Shirts and tank tops. A jersey and hoodie. Wristbands and stickers. Pins. Even a skateboard- with cupcakes and a cheerleader in a black and pink cheer outfit with fishnets.

“I want one of everything.” The goth gushed. 

Next Relent’s table- black cloth covered the table, displaying fewer options but no less enticing.

Danny eyed one particular shirt. 

Tucker pointed. “Dude, check it.” The shirt showed a typical, if spooky, bed-sheet ghost, the scene complete with the band name, fire, lightning, and little bats.

“I’m so tempted.” The half ghost grinned.

Then Protest’s. A huge banner with the band’s logo hung on a frame, shirts displayed around it. In front of that was a table with posters, cds, stickers, and other offerings. A man with long brown hair and an upper arm tattoo was hanging up one last jacket.

“That’s a sick zip-up.” Tucker commented.

The man turned around…. He looked vaguely familiar. “Thanks man. My bro designed it.” He pointed to another man, a few tables down who was talking to some other people. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m-” He held out his hand to Tucker, only to be interrupted.

“Joshua Bramlett!” 

The four turned, only to see-

“Grandma?!” Sam’s eyes crinkled in disbelief of the old woman zooming across the path in her electric wheelchair.

The man’s (presumably Joshua) eyes lit up behind his glasses. “Miss Ida!” He stepped around the group, bending over to hug the woman as her chair stopped. “How have you been?!”

The trio of teens stared, confused. “What is happening right now?” Danny asked.

Meanwhile, the bearded man and Sam’s grandma chatted. “These old joints are acting up. But I wasn’t going to miss seeing you boys for the world.” She patted his hand. “You have to meet my granddaughter.”

Grandma Ida wheeled forward, the man walking back to the trio with her. “This is Sam.” The old woman introduced.

“I’m Josh.” The man offered his hand with a smile.

“Sam.” The goth nodded, accepting the gesture.

“Tucker.”

“Danny.”

Two more hand shakes were given. 

Josh then lowered his hands, putting them in his pockets. “Have you ever seen us before?”

“Us?” Danny raised a brow and the man motioned to the banner. “Oh.” The boy blushed. “You're in the band.” That really should have been obvious; hadn’t he seen him on the flier for this very show?

Josh chuckled, giving a shrug. “I sing for The Protest.” The words were so casual, “Are you excited for the show?” and the question eager and genuinely interested.

The half ghost instinctively felt himself relaxing. “Yeah! We’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

“Me and the boys will be sure to put on a good one for you.” He chuckled, before pointing back at the stage. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more set up to do. I’d love to talk to you guys more after.”

Sure enough, Josh turned and walked away. The three teens stopped, watching for a long moment.

“He seems nice.” Tucker commented.

“That young man’s one of the sweetest, most genuine people you’ll ever meet.” Grandma Ida nodded, eyes twinkling with her smile. 

“Who you’ve apparently met before?” Sam frowned down, hands on her hips. “You know the Protest’s lead singer. How come you haven’t taken me to see them before?”

The old woman just shrugged, a mischievous look flickering across her face. Then her eyes lit up, gaze flickering to something near the stage. “Is that Marco Pera I see?!” She called out. “Don’t you run off now! Come talk to Grandma Ida.” The old woman wheeled off, leaving the three teens behind.

The goth lowered her hands to her sides, mouth open. “Unbelievable.”

Danny tugged her arm, diverting her attention. “Come on. There’s another table.”

Sam turned back. Her brow furrowed. “I thought there were only three bands playing.”

Tucker shrugged, leading his friends to the table. Sure enough, there was more merch displayed. 

“They have everything.” Danny’s eyes widened. Bags, CDs, posters, stickers, and pins were typical fare. But there were shirts in just about every color, not just black or gray. Keychains and coasters. Wristbands too. Even jewelry, bracelets that looked like they were made of leather.

“You should get that one, Sam.” Tucker pointed teasingly at a pink leather bracelet with the band’s name.

The goth rolled her eyes, giving the technogeek a punch on the arm. 

“Hey!” Tucker protested. 

Sam ignored him, instead reading the writing on the banner behind the table. “Chaotic Resemblance. Who are these guys anyway? They’re not on the flier.”

“We got added last minute.” A blond man, late twenties with a lip ring, looked up from his phone, putting the device in his pocket. “We’re good friends with the guys in the Protest and playin’ a few hours away tomorrow.” The man shrugged. He had an odd accent Danny couldn’t quite place. “Figured we could swing by.”

“Cool.” Danny said with a slight smile. He had no idea who this band was but the prospect of hearing cool, new music was always exciting.

Briefly, names were exchanged; the man’s name was Travis, yet another lead singer. He asked the trio if they’d heard of any of the other bands playing today and who they were excited to see.

“GFM.” Sam’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve been following their vlog for like a year now. The music kicks ass. And their music videos! I love the one for SMILE.” She stopped, blushing in seeming embarrassment from the rant. “So, yeah. I’m excited.”

Travis laughed, expression open and kind, before asking Tucker and Danny the same question. The technogeek mentioned reading a review of The Protest’s new ep on a music website he liked and listening to the songs a bunch. And Danny…

“Relent’s super cool. Sam introduced them to me, since they’re on that same label GFM used to be on.” He blushed, cheeks scrunching up with his smile. “I’ve listened to the new cd like a hundred times. Especially Ghost and Heavy.” Just a hint of sadness brushed his mind at the thought of that second one. “I… really like those songs.”

“You’ve gotta learn the words, right.” Tucker elbowed him playfully. 

The halfa just felt more embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well uh…”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Travis leaned forward, a conspiratory twinkle in his eye. “Let me tell you a secret. We love it when fans know the words.”

“Really?” Danny asked hesitantly.

“Yep.” The man nodded. “So you better sing really loud for those guys.” The half ghost nodded eagerly. Then, suddenly strumming sounded from the stage. Travis’ head jerked in the direction. “Oh, we’re sound checking. I have to go. It was great talking to you.”

Again, the trio watched him go. And Danny’s shoulder untensed. He felt better, embarrassment and lingering sadness gone. He knew all the words to Heavy because, well… he’d listened… and cried through the song many times. It’s not like anyone could blame him, right? The last two months had been the hardest of his life. But he’d gotten through it. He’d learned and he’d grown. And that song had been a tiny part of that.

Shaking the thought away, the trio of friends returned to their spot near the front. On the way they passed Danny’s mom and dad, both seated in their camping chairs with what looked like a few other parents. Jazz and a teen with black spiky hair and a nose ring stood on the other side of the stage, a little ways back.

The trio stood in front of the stage, excitement building as the band checked their sound. Minutes later, the musicians walked off, leaving the stage bare and ready. Music crackled to life on the speakers. Pre Recorded but familiar, fast paced and energetic, from bands Danny recognized. Anticipation grew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shadows were lengthening now, the golden light of late afternoon bathing the scene. The wind blew gently, not too hot or too cold. And the crowd gathered, people packing closer together near the stage. The half ghost’s heart fluttered with excitement. The show must be starting soon…

A cheer rang out around him. The boy looked up.

“Who’s ready to rock?!” It was an older man, maybe ten years older than his dad, bald but with a big, wispy beard and tattoos in a biker jacket. “I’ve always wanted to say that.” He chuckled. “I’m Dave. I’ve been volunteering with Guardians of the Children for ten years now. We’re so excited to have all of you guys here today. ‘Specially these awesome bands on the Gotta Rock ‘em all Tour.” 

Another cheer rose up and Dave clapped. “Yeah! Give it up for these dudes.”

“Woo!!” Danny yelled, voice joining his friends.

More clapping and cheering… slowly the sound died down.

The older man pointed. “Later, one of my buddies is goin’ to tell you all about what we Guardians do. But now… are you ready to have your faces melted!?”

“Yeah!” “Woo!” “Yeah!” The half ghost caught a glimpse of Sam, her fists already in the sky. Tucker, mouth open to yell.

“Our first band wasn’t originally planned to be here. They’re on their own tour now but makin’ a special trip to see us. I love these guys. If you’re in my generation, you’re in for a treat.” Dave’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Give it up for… Chaotic Resemblance!”

To cheers, the band sauntered onto stage, one by one. The drums pounded, cymbals clashing. Then the bass, an easy strum. The guitar, with a flourish and…

“How are we doing, Amity Park?!” Travis ran onto stage, now in a jean vest with studs and hair unbound.

The first song started, unfamiliar words fast. The guitars slung notes, fast and driving. The singer’s voice rose, high and resonating, with a twang. 

Danny bobbed his head, a smile growing as he listened. The sound tickled his ears. This was cool! Not his typical style for sure. Maybe it was closer to something he’d heard his parents listening to…? 

A hint of a bridge. The guitar solo. On stage, hair flew. The song swept up. 

Around the half ghost, the crowd was swept up with it. Danny’s heart beat faster, hair flopping on his forehead with his movement.

The chorus, on final time…. 

“It's time we break!” Travis half-sung, half-yelled.  “The identity crisis toda-ay!” The note held out, long high and reverberating. Instruments clashed, one finally flurry of head-banging. 

With a final shout, the sound died…. And the crowd cheered.

“Yeah!!” The halfa clapped, the motion big and exuberant.

One voice rose above the rest. “Woah! Radical, dudes!”

Danny looked back, cheeks bright red. That was his dad, hands up and grinning like a mad man.

On stage, Travis chuckled, pointing. “Thank you, sir.”

The half ghost face palmed….

The show rolled on, embarrassment long forgotten. 

“We’ve got one last song!” The singer started. “Thanks for having us.” A cheer from the crowd. The guitars started shredding. “We love you guys. God bless.” A final yell. “Let’s start a riot!”

Travis pumped the air with a fist. “Hey! Hey! Hey!”

Soon the crowd was copying….

Jumping. Hair slinging. Figuring out what to do during the song was natural, the crowd moving as one. 

“This is the Riot Anthem!” 

“Riot! Riot!” The boy’s heart pumped, grinning.

“Our final call to action!”

“Riot! Riot!” He shouted, fist punching the sky…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The set ended but the show went on, Relent playing next, just as the sun was starting to set.

“What you're about to see is not for free. No, I ain't got time for apologies!” Danny spat the words to the much loved song. “I'm a south boy killa. No scope headshot winner.” Screaming. “I can feel something staring at me!”

Bouncing, the half ghost’s spirit soared.

But the next song was Heavy. “I wrote this song based on my wife’s story. She’s been through so much. So many horrible, painful things. But she’s come out victorious.” The singer’s eyes flicking over the crowd. “So I hope her story helps people. I hope it helps you remember you’re not alone. And it helps you find the strength to break the silence and talk about the things that aren’t talked about enough.”

The drums pounded, slow and steady. The emotional words rang out. “I cannot take the pressure. This feels like forever…”

Danny sang along, vision threatening to blur…. 

The singer fisted the mic, eyes closed. “Look what you did to my soul. Look at the size of the hole.” He lamented. Tears collected in the corners of the half ghost’s eyes.  “Why do I, why do I, why do I feel so heavy?”

The song trickled to a stop and Danny’s heart squeezed. He whipped the tears away….

One final Relent song. The music pounded. Danny jumped and head-banged, excitement returning. His head swung at the bridge, the best part of the song. He sung. “Time’s up! What! What! What! Welcome to the-”

A puff of cold air. Danny stumbled to a stop, looking side to side. His eyes caught on… he blinked. A young man with sandy blond hair, a leather jacket. Was that… the motorcycle ghost he saw in the Zone?

Nervous curiosity squirmed in Danny’s gut as the set ended with a bang. The instruments pounded as the people cheered. With waves, the band left the stage.

The half ghost glanced back, his eyes meeting the other ghost’s. The biker raised an eyebrow. Danny turned back to the front, biting his lip. He should probably go talk to the guy. There was a little time before GFM started.

He tapped on Sam’s shoulder who turned as he leaned closer. “Save my spot. Be back soon.” The goth’s brow furrowed for just a second. Then Danny muttered. “Ghost.” He vaguely motioned with his head.

With no more discussion, he ran off, weaving through the crowd. Sure enough… there was the biker ghost. Johnny? That was what the green haired woman he’d been with before had called him, right? Quickly, Danny approached, half a dozen questions buzzing in his head. But what came out of his mouth…

“You should put that thing out.” His eyes narrowed at the death stick in Johnny’s hand. “Don’t you know cigarettes can kill you?”

The older ghost burst out laughing. “Shit, kid.” He dropped the cigarette, the object disappearing into mist as it fell. “How can you even see me?”

“You’re standing right in front of me.” The halfa raised a brow, arms crossed.

“I’m invisible.” He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You a medium or something?”

“A medium? What-” 

“Shit, I’ve seen you before.” The biker interrupted, snapping his finger. “You look like that twelve year old who was looking for his Mama.”

“I’m fourteen!” Danny bared his teeth. A cold feeling flickered in his eyes, green light swirling in them. 

“Holy….” The other ghost’s eyes widened. “I thought you were the live twin to your dead bro. But… holy f-king hell….” He pointed. “You’re a halfa.”

Said halfa dropped his arms. “What… How?… I just flashed my eyes and knew it like that?”

“I felt it, now that I’m actually lookin’ at ya…” Somehow, Johnny’s eyes widened more. “How come I didn’t feel it before?”

Danny blushed. “That’s complicated…” He shook his head. “What are you doing here?” The question was curious, just a hint of suspicion. 

“Watching a show.” He motioned to the stage, matter-of-fact. “Me and Kitten stumbled on a natural portal. Thought we’d have a bit of fun.” He leaned forward, voice lowering. “She’s good about knowing how long one’s gonna be open. Said we’ve got ‘til midnight.”

Danny’s brow furrowed. So that was apparently a thing…? But he didn’t ask. Instead he looked side-to-side…. “Where is she?”

“Snooping around backstage.” The other ghost grinned, mischievously, a hint of sharp teeth flashing.

New suspiciousness flashed in his eyes. A desire flickered- to get the thermos and catch the two ghosts before anything happened. But…. the boy sighed. Johnny was just standing here, watching the show like any other concert goer. He sounded like he was enjoying the music. Maybe Danny could hope….

Danny rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can you at least try not to cause trouble?”

“Trouble?” The man laughed. “We won’t do nothing too bad.” He winked. “Besides, I’m digging these guys… and girls?” His eyes widened slightly, set on something behind. Probably GFM getting on stage. He shook his head, expression just a bit more genuine. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to stop the party.”

At that, Danny sighed. Behind him, cheers started. “Great. I’ll be near the front. Have fun.” He started turning to leave. “And really, don’t try anything. My parents are ghost hunters after all.” He pointed a thumb to the two Fentons adults, standing in front of their chairs. “You saw that big gun my Mom had in the Realms? She knows how to use it. And…” He flashed his eyes. “My folks aren’t the only ones’ armed.”

For a second, Johnny’s face paled, nervousness flickering across it. Then he smirked, summoning another cigarette with a flick of his fingers. “Alright, kid.” Burgeoning respect shone in those eyes. “See you ‘round.”

Danny ran back to the front, pushing through the crowd. In front of him, pink-colored smoke still shot up from the stage. He arrived at his spot just as Maggie ran on stage. 

“What is up Amity? I need you all to make some noise for me tonight!” Arms spread, head back, the teen brought the mic to her mouth and growled….

“Don’t tell me to! Don’t tell me to! SMILE.” A guttural yell. 

Hair flying. The crowd chanted around him. “S.M.I.L.E. Why don’t you smile for me?”

His feet pounded, his heart pounded, sweat running down his back. Beside him, Sam spat the words; he could almost hear her growling along. Tucker banged his head, glasses hanging on for dear life. Even so, his friends’ faces shone with gleeful happiness.

The second verse swung around, the chorus again. Danny’s mind filled up with the words, the rhythm. No room for anything more than the sheer exuberance.

The guitar and bass cut off, drums pounding the beat. “Okay, everyone settle down. Boys and girls, are you ready?” The guitarist, CJ, more chanted than sung.

The crowd clapped and yelled, hands in the air.

“LuLu, are you ready?” Pointing at the drummer. “I know I’m ready!” With a grin. “Maggie, are you ready?” Voice pitched up, a performatively raised brow. “Maggie?”

A pause. The audience held their breath, gripped with anticipation and...

“Go!” A growl from said teen. The breakdown hit.

And the crowd lost it. Jumping. Headbanging. Pushing and shoving. Moshing. The horde jolted. Someone ran past Danny. And…. they were circling?! The half ghost grinned manically. 

“Jack!”

His ears twitched at the cry. A look back, eyes widened. And… Danny just about felt his soul leave his body. His Dad… his dad was in the circle pit. A flash of worry. But the man was keeping up no problem, sure on his feet. 

Danny chuckled, turning back to the front as the last chorus started. His voice joined the rest. At least his dad was having fun….

“Anyone want cupcakes?!” Maggie yelled.

This was it, the last song! And there they were: clear plastic containers with neon-frosted confections. The famed cupcakes!

“Misery loves company, I bet you're fun at parties.” Cupcakes flew. “Chasing after all the things you think will make you happy.” Instinctively, Danny ducked. “You've been played so many times, you'd make the perfect barbie.” The sugary goodness rained down. “Pretend your life's a fairytale, the story's getting boring….”  The guitar sped up, fingers flying across the cords.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins, heart pounding a mile a minute. He sang his lungs out. “I don’t need your fantasy!” 

Beside him, Sam’s eyes shone with passion, a balled fist to the sky. “'Cause I'm gonna say, gonna say what I wanna say…” 

A cupcake nailed her in the shoulder, pink icing smearing across her shirt and face. Danny laughed, pointing. The shocked look on her face!

“…my voice. You can't take it away!”

Something chocolate brown and blue flew at his face. The half ghost flailed to catch and… 

“You can’t!”

Blue icing coated his hands. He dropped the cupcake…

“You can’t! You can’t!”

Right into Tucker’s hands. The technogeek smirked, taking a huge bite. 

Danny lost it, bursting out laughing. Mind, body, heart, and soul wrapped up, caught up in the moment. Just him and the beat. The stickiness on his hands. His grinning, screaming, laughing friends. The press of the crowd around him. The words pouring out of his mouth. 

“This is my life, my voice. You can't take it away!”

His core sang, buzzing inside him. This. This right here. It was amazing, incredible, perfect. The feeling almost euphoric. 

This is awesome! The words were more yelled in his head than thought. An almost physical thing, like throwing the idea with his mind to-

“Misery loves company, I bet you're fun at parties.” Sam’s jump sent her careening into him. “Chasing after all the things you think will make you happy!” She’s never looked so happy to be wearing pink.

The breakdown. Tucker’s flailing arm jolted his side, icing smeared around the technogeek’s  mouth.

“Now, you’ll see… I don’t need your fantasy!” With bared teeth, head raised to the sky, Danny had never felt so alive….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The set ended with a bang, the clashing of instruments as people cheered. The three sisters left the stage. The previous soundtrack started again, so much quieter than the live music. The half ghost almost felt the crowd breath out, decompress as one of the Guardian of the Children volunteers came up to speak. The mass of people shifted, the space for moshing filling in as some snuck closer to the front and others left. Jazz and Spike drifted closer, standing right beside Danny and his friends.

Danny took a breath, whipping his sweaty forehead.

His sister laughed, giving him a knowing look.

The boy raised a brow. “I’ve got icing on my face now, don’t I?”

“Yep.” Jazz’s tone was full of teasing.

“You want some?” With a grin, the little brother swiped for her.

“Danny!” The older teen shrieked, jumping away.

“Come on! Let me give you a high five!” He reached again.

Jazz weaved, dodging. “No!”

“Come on!” Danny got her right in her face.

“Ew! It’s sticky!” The girl fished in her bag, pulling on a sleeve of wet wipes. Frustiously, she whipped at the blue frosting. “Here, you heathen.” She shoved the package at her brother.

The boy rolled his eyes but obliged, whipping his hands. It did feel nice to get the sticky feeling off them. 

A sudden screeching sound through the mic brought Danny’s attention back to the speaker. 

The older man speaking smiled sheepishly. “Got too close to the mic there. As I was saying…”

What was the man saying? Danny should probably pay attention…

The boy shuffled foot to foot, watching, listening. He was getting tired from standing here so long. And thirsty. He’d sung, and screamed, and sweated a lot. He glanced back, wanting to go get some water. But his coveted spot…

Another screech. Danny’s gaze jolted back, focus returned. The mic was giving the guy problems, huh? He watched the stage, the lights  slowly brightening in the growing darkness. It was well past sunset now. A flicker of movement below the stage caught Danny’s attention. Some thing darted by, dark and strangely formless. That was weird… 

A few more minutes and the volunteer finished speaking, leaving the stage. The soundtrack returned as the lights on the stage dimmed.

Danny’s insides fluttered, anticipation rising again. He was still tired, previous emotional high lessened. But the last band was about to come on soon! The headliner!

Beside him, Tucker shook with excitement. “Oh, man. This is gonna be awesome.”

Danny nodded. The lights shifted, spot lighting the drums. And…

“Make some noise, Amity!” Josh ran on stage, jumping. “I wanna see you on your feet!”

The music rumbled and the crowd obeyed. A roar from the background track. Josh fisted the mic and growled. “I caught you like the monster hiding under my bed. Now I’m gonna rip you right out of my head! Like a baseball to the side of the face, I’ll make you disappear without a trace.” Heads bobbed, hands raised. “The match is in my hand… The match is in my hand!” The crowd shook, starting to jump. “You’re just a paper!”

A deafening pop and sound and lights died.

“A paper tiger!” The last yelled words sounded, only audible because of how close Danny was to the stage. 

For a few more seconds, the crowd continued jumping, the band still trying to play as Josh sang without amplification . “Nothing more than a… silver tongued… liar?” 

But the movement stalled, fizzling out. The half ghost stumbled to a stop, brow furrowing in confusion. Around him the crowd started to murmur.

On stage, the guitarist closest to the trio, short cropped hair and bare faced in a tank top, stummed, no sound coming through the speaker. His head turned toward the others already gathering around the drum set. “Did we just lose power?”

The drummer shrugged. One of the lights flashed on, randomly swiveling on its display. The spotlight shone right in the short haired musician’s face. “Woah!” He closed his eyes, head jerking away. The sound echoed out. The man blinked. “Hey, the mic’s back.”

More strumming attempts. Josh tried his mic again, lowering it with a confused look. The drummer motioned to something on the laptop set up beside the kit.

The guitarist turned his attention back to the audience. “Well, that’s how you know it’s live and we’re not just playing over a recording.” He laughed, strumming his guitar and making a face. “Anyone want to hear a joke?”

Under the stage something black flickered again. Danny titled his head, brow furrowed.

“What's a vampire's favorite kind of candy?” He gave a pause for effect, murmurs of question coming from the audience. Then… "A sucker."

Around him, people chuckled lightly, several groaning at the bad joke. On stage, the man continued. “There’s more where that came from. What do….”

The words drifted over Danny’s head, unable to keep his attention. Instead, his focus was on a… weird, unnaturally dark shadow. It undulated, half-slinging-half-crawling in the recesses under the stage. 

Another electric pop. The lights swiveled.

Danny almost swore he heard laughter….

The half ghost’s head turned side to side, looking. Was… no one else really seeing this?

The creature…. The ghost (it must be another ghost, with the way his ghost sense was swirling in his throat) chuckled again, static echoing through the speakers.

A few people winced, covering their ears. “Okay, okay, no more dad jokes.”

Somehow no one was seeing the ghost. How? Other people had been able to see the Lunch Lady and Dora. Wait…. It must have been the partial invisibility like Sidney showed him. But why…

“Hey!” The word was hissed, just a hint of ghostly echo. 

Danny’s head jerked, looking for the source of the noise. His gaze scanned the crowd. For just a second, his eyes met his mother’s, her brow wrinkled in concern as she stood up. 

Then… his gaze met a wavering, ethereal figure. Johnny…

“Cut it out!” The ghostly man hissed. He drifted forward, unseen by the crowd even as he literally, intangibly floated through them. 

Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m not doing anything.” He muttered hotly, earning a confused look from Tucker.

The biker ghost “What? No, not-” Another crackle cut off the word, the man covering his ears. His eyes narrowed, fixing on….

The strange embodiment of darkness. 

Oh. Danny realized 

“Cut it out, Shadow.” The man complained. “I’m actually enjoying this. Go make a kid drop their ice cream or something.”

Danny raised a brow at that last part but Johnny waved him off, attention still on the shadow.

“I’ll bring out the flashlight, man. Just you keep it up and see.” The other ghost threatened.

The living (unliving? undead?) shadow seemed to deflate. With something like a sigh, it zipped off.

The lights came back on. “Hey!” Several positive shouts came from the stage. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Danny picked up the words, from the other guitarist and unamplified.

The half ghost turned his attention back to Johnny. “What was that about?” He asked quietly.

The man shrugged. “There’s a reason they call me Unlucky Johnny 13.” He motioned, waving in the general direction the shadow had gone. “Thing’s got a mind of its own.”

That… answered no questions. But the other ghost ignored Danny’s confused look, instead lifting a hand. “There you are Kitty.” His eyes lit up and in a blink, he disappeared, materializing at the green-haired woman’s side seconds later.

Danny just blinked, taking in what had just happened. That was… something.

“...feel like my ears are burning. They’re talking about me, aren’t they?” The words drew the half ghost’s attention back. The guitarist pointed his thumb at his bandmates. “I’m being voted out of the band, aren’t I?” The look was falsely aghast. “This’ll be my last show with the Protest, guys. It’s been fun.”

What the heck had he missed?

Just then, his mom tapped on his shoulder.

Danny turned jerkily, surprised. “When did you get here?”

The woman’s brow furrowed in concern. “You had a strange look on your face. Is everything alright sweetie? ”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” His eyes flickered to the two ghosts standing at the edge of the crowd. The halfa’s voice lowered, stepping closer to the woman. “There’s two ghosts, the biker couple we saw in the Realms. And this weird shadow ghost that was messing with the sound. The dude, Johnny, yelled at it to stop and it flew off somewhere.”

His mom looked in the direction his gaze had flickered. “I can’t see them.”

“I don’t think anyone else can either. Just me.” The boy shrugged. “It’s a ghost thing.”

“What are they doing?” She asked.

“Just watching the show. Johnny said they came through a natural portal and wanted to have some fun.”

Her forehead wrinkled in worry at the statement. “A natural portal again?”

“We’re good to go!” The crowd cheering interrupted Danny’s response. Josh’s words echoed. “Let’s start this again.” 

“We can talk later.” Danny had to raise his voice to be heard. Accepting a nod in response, he turned back to the front.

The band was walking off the stage, only to return moments later to cheers. 

The instruments pounded. The singer held the mic to his mouth and… “I caught you like the monster hiding under my bed….”

The song started again and Danny jumped, previous confusion and worry quickly forgotten.

“You’re just a paper! A paper tiger! Nothing more than a silver tongued liar! Paper! Paper Tiger! Incinerated by my new found fire!”

The crowd jumped and screamed. Song after song, excitement built.

Josh sang. “You may feel a change but don't be afraid.” 

“The transformation has just begun!” The short-haired guitarist quipped with a grin, pointing at the audience….

The words half-chanted. “In the freak show. In the freak show. In the freak show.” Hands flailed, shoulders shook as Danny and his friends danced.

 “Your mind will be blown away! Hey!” Each word punctuated by a fist to the sky. “Hey! Hey!” 

“Welcome to the Freakshow!” Second chorus ending, the crowd reached a fever pitch.

His heart beating in time with the music, Danny head-banged. His hair flung, dripping with sweat.

Something square and silver at the edge of his vision. Head turned, brow furrowed. His mom had her phone out, lens facing him. 

The boy snorted. Sore neck bobbing faster, he stuck out his tongue at her….

In the small break before the next song… “You’re supposed to take pictures of the band, not me!” Danny laughed…

The set forgaged on. Shredding guitars, pounding drums, screamed words. The songs were incredible. And the message in between…

“If you leave here tonight with one thing, know that you are loved so much. Do you guys understand me?” Murmurs of agreement. “So much. You have no idea.” Josh’s eyes were wide and earnest, so much conviction behind the words. “After we’re done playing tonight, we will be over at the merch tent. Please come talk to us. You are looking at four sinners so we don’t have all the answers, I promise you that. We don’t. We would love to hear your story. We’d love to pray with you. We’d love to talk with you. That’s why we’re here. That’s why all of these bands are here, why we drove hundreds of miles to be here today. To share the hope that we have in Jesus. We love you guys so so much. Come hang out with us. We’ve got a few more for you….”

Danny’s heart squeezed, something deep in him touched by the words. He didn’t know about all of this, but that offer… to be heard, to be listened to. There were plenty of things he couldn’t say but…

Another song started. By now, the almost euphoric excitement had smoothed, lessened, morphed into a more quiet, heartfelt joy. Even still, the words sent goose bumps over the half ghost’s arm.

“This is the time for life revolution

Setting a course to reclaim the broken.

We look to find those lost in the night.

Following hearts that lead like a compass

Fire will rise and we let it guide us.”

The singer leaned over the crowd and the half ghost sang, his soul pouring into each syllable. “Despite the pain, we’ll stay unbroken.” 

Each voice ringing in harmony, brown eyes and blue eyes met. Something in Danny’s chest fluttered, breathless and awed. He could never describe the feeling, not completely.  But when gazes met… belief resonated. Both meant every single word….

To cheers, the set ended. The lights dimmed as people started walking away. And for a long moment, Danny stood in front of the stage, eyes wide and heart light. That amazed feeling stirred…

“We need to get a picture!” Jazz’s hand on his shoulder drew him out of himself.

“Yeah. Go for it.” The boy smiled, letting his sister put her arm around him. 

The pair took a selfie, each with matching grins. The red-head lowered the phone. And Danny finally registered his friends and family hovering around him.

“That first band was so good!” His dad gushed. “They’re just like that band I was in in college! Good ol’ Skunk Punks! But they’ve got much better hair. And better lyrics.”

“Your strengths are in things other than lyrical composition, dear.” His mom graciously didn’t speak on the hair comment. 

Sam pulled him and Tucker across the grass. “We need to get pictures with everyone! And merch! I want one of like everything.”

“Yes! I need the GFM snapback. Their set was so good!” The technogeek laughed, pointing at the icing staining her shirt. “They got you to wear pink. And.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m the only one who didn’t get icing on them

The goth rolled her eyes but then a mischievous look passed her face. “That’s what you think.” 

“What are you- Hey!”

She swiped a glob of crusting icing from her shirt and shoved it at him. “Ha!”

“Not my beret! Sam, how could you!?”

Danny just laughed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyone bought merch. The Relent Ghost shirt and a wristband for GFM and The Protest for Danny. For Sam, the pink and black skateboard, a delightfully cute and creepy pink, green, and black shirt, and a bunch of CDs. (“Who even buys CDs anymore? You can just stream that.” Tucker wrinkled his nose. The goth pulled his hand down over his face. “I want to actually support the bands I like, Tucker. Spotify doesn’t deserve a cent.) The technogeek proceeded to buy his own CD and his coveted snapback.

Danny’s parents even got in on the action. Dad apparently bought a Chaotic Resemblance shirt for everyone in the family. And the famed pink leather bracelet.

Pictures were taken with every band. 

“A silly one next!” Noses were scrunched up in ridiculous expressions. Two members of the Protest pretended to be punching each other. Danny laughed more still.

Words were exchanged, excited ones about the show….

“Awesome set!” Each GFM member was offered a high five.

More casual ones, about school and interests. (Unsurprisingly Josh and co were very personable.)

“Yeah. I just started ninth grade. It’s going pretty well.” “What’s your favorite subject?” “Science. I’ve always wanted to be an astronaut…”

And somber ones.

The last band Danny got to speak to was Relent. His heart twisted, words lingering heavy on it. You should say something, a voice in him, not audible but very much present, whispered. The ghost boy listened.

“The last few months have been… really hard for me, for a bunch of reasons. But… I’ve listened to your song, Heavy a bunch of times. And it’s really helped me. Like… uhh… when I couldn’t sleep and just wanted to cry. And… yeah. I’ve listened to it alot and all your other songs so…. Thanks for writing them and putting them out. And… uh… thanks for being here tonight.”

Danny looked down, nervousness flopping his stomach.

“That’s why we write songs and tour.” The lead singer (In their introduction, Danny learned his name was Miggy.) “Like I said on stage, I hope that our songs help people. Thanks for telling me, man.” His expression softened, earnest. “Do you mind if I pray for you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Danny’s friends and family walked back towards the GEV, the boy lingered for just a moment to look over the field. For just a second, three ghostly figures flickered into existence. Kitty and Johnny, the black shadow curled at the man’s feet, floated in front of the stage, unseen by all except the half ghost. The man nodded in his direction, lifting a cigarette-gripping hand. The green-haired woman waved.

Danny returned the gesture, lips quirking as the couple disappeared. He had a feeling he’d be seeing them again.

With the ghosts gone, the boy turned his attention back to the activity across the field. The bands were still active, packing up instruments and putting them in the vans and buses. Soon enough the stage would be torn down as well, leaving no evidence of the concert that had been here. 

Even so, the half ghost’s heavy heart felt lightened. He felt better after talking to Miggy; that had been good for him. The boy sighed. This had been an incredible night. 

Sam bumped his shoulder. “Come on. Tucker asked and your dad said he’s taking us to Nasty Burger for shakes.”

It looked like the night wasn’t over yet.

Everyone piled into the GEV and his dad pulled out, leaving the almost empty parking lot. A few minutes later found the trio sitting at a picnic table outside the restaurant, each nursing their own shake.

Chatter batted back and forth, jokes and memories. The three looked through the pictures that had been taken.

“That’s a good one! You got him mid-head bang.” Tucker pointed while he and Danny leaned over Sam’s phone, admiring a picture of Josh Bramlett with his hair spread in a halo above him.

“I love this one.” The goth swiped. This photo was of GFM’s drummer, an excited grin plastered on her face.

“Drummer pics are so hard to get! That’s awesome.” Danny congratulated.

The conversation continued on, milkshakes almost finished and… 

The half ghost sighed. “Thanks guys for being there.” 

That got him strange looks. “Dude, of course we were going to come to the show with you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I…” Danny shook his head. He wasn’t exactly sure what prompted this line of thinking but… “I mean…. Thanks for being here for me. With the accident and then splitting myself. I know it’s been hard and you’ve been the best friends I could ask for.” He’d told them as much at Sam’s that day, when they’d convinced Phantom to talk to Fenton about re-fusing and his denial of his death. And even before that…

He blushed. “You guys are the ones who convinced Phantom me to stop denying we were the same person. You guys… you saw me.. You knew me even when I didn’t know myself. So…” He bit his lip. “Thanks for sticking with me,” There in the Hot Topic dressing room, after his ghost self had flown off… “even when I was a jerk to you guys.” 

His friends’ expressions softened. “You really don’t have to thank us, Danny. That’s what friends are for.” Sam said.

“Yeah.” Tucker smiled. “We’re your friends. Of course we’ll stick by you. You’d do the same for us.”

Danny sighed, shaking his head. “Like I said, you guys are the best.”

His best friends both reacted out. An awkward group hug… the table in the middle had just their arms touching each other, heads close together. But Danny closed his eyes, heart warm.

This really had been the best day.

End note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy it. :) As always, feel free to let me know what you liked.

#my fic #face to face #double danny #split danny #danny phantom

[ghostoffuturespast]

WIP Whenever & Thirsty Thursday

Tagged by the lovely @vox-monstera! Thank you!

It's not Wednesday, but it is Thursday ;) So you know what that means...

I'm not gonna tag anyone because of my crippling embarrassment every time I post smut (even though I've got no reason to be embarrassed. It is, however, my first time posting something saucy here on ze tumblr...), but @wanderingaldecaldo and @shimmer-like-agirl, you both outed yourselves on the sandwich poll. So there.

Anyway, enjoy a morsel of smut of Grandpa V and Old Man River from the next sandwich chapter I'm working on. Below the cut because porn.

River kissed V fully.   Boldly.  His appetite for her the furthest thing from shy.  She felt his smugness as his lips ran over hers, hands coasting along her ass before settling to hold her hips in place.  V flushed at the way River kissed her.  How his mouth enveloped her.  Consumed and savored.  The way he took his time with her, observant in his exploration, it wound V up deliriously high.  Sent waves of pleasure through her body that made her want to dance.  But she held still, so as to soak in the attention he gave her. It was a disappointment when River stopped, panting as he caught his breath.  "How’s that?"    The heat of V's dizziness robbed her of thought.  "It's, uh…"  She fumbled stringing the words together.  Took too long to answer.  A startled whimper escaped as River took the opportunity to prompt her, his mouth sucking hard on her clit.    She squirmed, and River chastised her even harder. There was a small pop as he paused to let V go again, propping her up and keeping her just out of reach.  His amusement smirked up and down the inside of her thigh.  "Gotta tell me what you want, babe." V's fingers went to the hands clasped on her waist.  The ones denying her.  She scrabbled needy at them.  Desperate.  Then pleaded.  "Fu–fuck.  River, don't stop." "Mmm,"  He held her firm, his voice a contemplative whisper.  "Not the name I was hoping for, buuut…"     A hitched breath, before the provocations of his tongue descended upon her in absolute indulgence.  V pressed down into his caress, tension spasming tight in her thighs and snaking hot in the pit of her stomach.  That damp heat cloyed heavy between her legs, every stroke River made making her want to writhe with every infinitesimal motion.  He held her in his hands, wetting her.  Lapping her up.  The pleasure became overbearing as it tried to seize her, clamber through her body.  Unable to hold back any longer, V bowed forward and gave into sensation.  Wanting to be destroyed.  Be the destroyer. Two could play. Purple strands cascaded over tawny skin as she caved into desire.  River's ministrations continued, but the tempo shifted as she began her own. Balanced on her right elbow and caving into desire, the splayed fingers of her left hand slid across the taut planes of River's torso followed by inquisitive lips.  She touched whatever she wanted, ran her mouth wherever it pleased. His grip alternated between tight and slack beneath her scrutiny, his composure from earlier, crumbling.    V traced a path downward, following the trail of hair around his navel and slipping a hand underneath his waistband to part fabric.  She pushed the offensive material aside to dart through the thicket at his groin, expose River’s brimming arousal.  Toy with him.  She placed light caresses on the lulls and peaks of his hips, traversed the crest of his thighs; watched him twitch swollen and erect with every miniscule manipulation.  And then… V kissed River back.

#cyberpunk 2077 #writing #fan fiction #otp: so it goes #river ward #v x river ward #oc: valerie hye jin li #stinky not fresh #my grandpa v #get it grandpa #i enjoy putting characters in positions of mutually assured destruction #guess my favorite number #...it's actually 3 and it's a factor but that's neither here nor there #wip whenever #thirsty thursday #no cold cuts here #only hot beef dip sandwich with good good aus jus #someone get me out of the tags plz

[periwinckles]

The train back to twelve - Chapter 12

WEEK 6 - THOM

Thursday brings the train again and a new wave of enthusiasm for the residents. Five portable solar powered showers. We end up having to recruit several men from Jack and Cyrus' team, but we manage to get them near camp before lunch. I assign Leevy with the task to schedule everyone's shower slot, and for the first time in more than a month we have the luxury of a daily shower for everyone.

The train also carries something more daunting. Five guns. We have a quick council meeting and the three of us agree we won't decide what to do with them by ourselves. We summon up a district meeting after lunch to handle the matter, extending an invitation to the Victor's village residents as well. Only Peeta and Haymitch show up to join us.

"Let's have a recap shall we?" I try to keep my voice loud and clear and ignore the fact that Peeta chose to sit next to Delly.

"Only those over eighteen are allowed to vote. There's five guns. One of them will be carried by whoever is on duty for patrol. You can write four names down to cast your vote on whoever gets to carry the other four."

The tension in the air is suffocating. Most of us thought we were coming back to a peaceful life, and we would probably prefer to ship these guns back to the Capitol. But we can't take any more risks. Not when we already lost so much.

Jack and I gather the most votes. We had a suspicion it would swing this way. Still we wanted to make the process transparent and not leave any room for anyone to accuse us of anything.

Peeta is the third name to be chosen.

"I'm not carrying a gun, no way."

"One of the guns should be in Victor's village." I say, trying to reason with him. "If someone attacks the district you' ll be too far for us to defend you. If not you, then Haymitch."

"Hell, no." Haymitch fights back, and a murmur starts to arise among the residents. Everyone agrees that one of the guns should be in Victor's village, but neither Peeta nor Haymitch are budging.

"We 'll come back to this later. Cyrus, you get the fourth one."

"Yeah, that's not happening either." He answers back and Jack huffs in frustration. What does it say about district twelve that all its residents seem bent on refusing to carry a gun?

"Cyrus, you gotta be kidding me." Jack counters back, throwing his hands on the air, in exasperation.

"I am done with people looking at me and seeing the Capitol. I'm not carrying a gun."

He leans against one of the supplies' shelter posts, his arms crossed, as if the matter is settled and unchanging.

"If we saw you as the Capitol we wouldn't have voted for you for the council." Ray answers back, and he looks up. "We know you're the one that cut down the power from the fence, that night. We might not even be standing here if it weren't for you."

I look at Cyrus with disbelief. I did not know that. The night of the bombing was so chaotic it's a miracle we managed to save as many people as we did. By the time I got to the fence it was already unelectrified and down. I never wondered about it until now. I always assumed Gale managed to turn it off, somehow.

"If you refuse to carry this gun that is the most selfish thing you'll ever do, Cyrus." I tell him and all eyes turn to me. "Same to you Haymitch. I would also prefer not to carry one, but I will, because this district and it's people are my life. You're our most trained shooter, Cyrus. You think you're doing a service to us by refusing to make use of your skills to protect us? And you, Haymitch? What kind of mentor are you? One that logs off work whenever it pleases him or are you going to step up and keep your kids safe?"

Haymitch has a hard look on his face and I think he might actually punch me. But after a few heartbeats of silence, he takes a few steps in my direction and takes the gun from my hands. Cyrus ends up doing the same.

"Meeting adjourned. Go back to your business." Jack orders.

Everyone starts to wander off, but there's something I have to do first.

"Delly, wait up."

Read the rest on AO3 or FF.net

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #thelly #peeta x katniss #Delly x Thom #the rebuilding of district twelve